


Lonely as Our Secrets

by MischiefProlonged



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Angst and Romance, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Character Death, F/M, Healer Hermione Granger, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Slow Burn, Spy Draco Malfoy, Torture, Wizarding Wars (Harry Potter)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:07:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 43
Words: 201,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23405779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MischiefProlonged/pseuds/MischiefProlonged
Summary: In the four years since the order and it's allies failed to win the Battle of Hogwarts, Hermione Granger and the rest of the order have fought to defeat their final foe. But they are failing. Until Draco Malfoy offers her an opportunity to do what no one else in the order has ever done.But risking her life comes with challenges she never would have expected. And Draco is at the heart of it all. Can they defeat Voldemort and keep each other alive long enough to discover their feelings? To win the war, what would Hermione do for her loved ones? Anything? Everything.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 193
Kudos: 348





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trying out a new relationship tag as I've recently found myself sucked into the world of Hermione and Draco. I'm going to try and update this as much as I can but I can't make any promises about frequency :) Please feel free to leave reviews as you feel necessary, I love and appreciate any feedback! This is simply the beginning. I've had the idea swimming around in my head for a while but decided to finally get it out in true form. I hope you enjoy!

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she hunched over the body of the wizard she had found on the edge of the field, sprays of dirt falling over them as a bright purple spell collided just a foot from where she was kneeling. Gripping her wand in one hand she opened her eyes again and looked around quickly. The darkness surrounding her was blinding but the soft glow from her wand helped her to see the blood soaking the man’s shirt.

The field they were in was chaotic with activity. She was near the edge, thank merlin, otherwise she was positive that the aim of their enemies would be much more accurate. Instinctively she scanned the witches and wizards some 15 yards from her, eagerly straining to see any hint of the red heads of the Weasleys and the tousled black hair of Harry.

The Death Eaters cloaks and hoods stood out against the bright flashes of spells that lit up the darkness of the night. Anger rushed through her before she could school her emotions, anger.. and pure fear.

Pushing her feelings aside she turned back to her patient. This is why she was here, what she had been trained for. The man’s breathing was shallow, and Hermione muttered a spell over the blood flooding from the wound in his chest. “Please, please, please…” She chanted under her breath as she carefully watched as the flow of blood slowed.

Breathing a quick sigh of relief, she flicked her wand and the man disappeared, sent back to the Burrow. The makeshift hospital set up on the grounds would house many people tonight, as it had for the past four years of fighting. Four years since they lost the battle of Hogwarts. Four years more that Voldemort and the Death Eaters have been terrorizing the wizarding world.

Hermione got to her feet again, cast another disillusion charm over herself and rushed back toward the center of the battle. Flashes of red, white and… she ducked… bright green flew past her as she focused not on the wizards fighting around her, but the ones that were strewn across the ground at her feet.

Maneuvering her way as carefully as she could she knelt down to feel the pulse of a woman lying closest to her, clenching her jaw at the lack of movement under her fingers. _The next one_ , she thought in reflex, checking two other bodies and again repeating the mantra she had said to herself too many times.

A glimpse of red hair caught her eye and she whipped around to see Ron duck under a flash of green light. Fear again rushed through her and she sent a spell that knocked the Death Eater that had just tried to kill Ron off his feet. The cloaked figure flew ten feet and landed with a soft thud on the ground, unmoving.

Ron glanced around fervently, and she dropped the disillusionment spell. Seeing her appear Ron breathed out a sigh of relief and rushed towards her, pulling her down into a crouch next to him.

“How many?” Ron asked, his grip on her arm tightening slightly as he looked around them. The center of the fighting was still several yards away and they had the cover of darkness for a few moments.

She shook her head, “Too many. This needs to end. Now.”

Ron turned his gaze to her and grimly nodded. “Be careful.” He said before standing and rushing forward into the heat of the battle, shouting orders to their allies as he went.

Hermione took another deep breath before standing herself and following him, keeping her wand held tightly in her hand as she focused on both the spells flying around her, and the bodies underneath her. A cackling laugh caught her attention and she abandoned her mission, instead turning and catching the moment that Bellatrix Lestrange sent a green beam of light from the tip of her wand. The crazy eyed witch was laughing joyfully as though it were Christmas morning instead of a deadly battle in the middle of a field.

The green light crashed into the chest of the man Bellatrix had been aiming at, and Hermione saw a flash of red mix with the fading green as the man fell limply to the ground. Red hair. She started forward, instincts and rage taking over as she threw spell after spell at the black-haired witch.

Surprised, Bellatrix turned her sneer on Hermione as she deflected spell after spell. She grinning madly as she stepped quickly towards Hermione, yelling as she came closer.

“Itty, bitty, mudblood bitch,” Bellatrix screamed out, dodging a bright flash of light from Hermione’s wand. “Did you miss me?” She cackled and Hermione yelled in frustration as she blocked another one of her spells. Stepping back, Hermione stumbled over something in the grass, losing her concentration as she threw out her arms to keep her balance.

Seeing the opportunity, Bellatrix screamed out, “CRUCIO!”

Bracing for the searing pain she would feel, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. But instead of the bone cracking burning, she was instead pushed to the ground by a heavy figure. The breath left her lungs as they landed on the ground.

In the darkness she scrambled to twist out form under the man that was doing his best to get off of her. Hermione could see Bellatrix’s still form lying just meters from them, sprawled on the ground, her outstretched hand still frozen above her. Panicked she shoved at the person on top of her knowing that the _Petrificus Totalus_ would wear off any moment.

“Hermione, stop.” The man grunted as her elbow dug into his side in her attempts to push him away.

Hermione stopped struggling and stared up at the green eyes above her. “Harry. Oh, thank god. Harry.” Relief flooded through her at the appearance of her best friend.

Now that the wiggling witch under him was still, Harry was able to find solid purchase and pushed himself up off of her, getting to his feet and catching his breath after his sprint across the field. He had seen her dueling Bellatrix and had reached her as quickly as he could. Harry reached down a hand and grasped Hermione’s arms to pull her to her feet.

“Are you okay?” He asked, distractedly, wanting to return to the battle now that she was safe.

“Yes. I’m alright, go.” Hermione replied, seeing his need to return to his friends and allies.

Harry nodded sharply and turned to leave. Suddenly he turned back to her, “We’re ending this soon. Get ready to leave on the signal.”

She nodded and he looked pained for a moment before turning back and rushing back, firing jets of red light from his wand as he went. There were at least fifty figures around them, and for a moment, Hermione felt as though she couldn’t focus her mind.

But the order from Harry spurred her movements. Not bothering to look back to Bellatrix, Hermione started to move back to her original mission. As she ran across the ground she stumbled again, cursing herself for the second time that night. Angrily she pushed herself up off the ground and kicked at the root that she had tripped over. Her foot collided with solid purchase and she felt a small ping of satisfaction, wanting to punish the menace.

Then the root grunted.

Surprised, Hermione scrambled up to her hands and knees and crawled back. The root that she had tripped over was in fact a leg, which was attached to a person, Hermione noted gratefully. She felt across the ground for the torso and felt the stickiness of what she could only assume was blood against her hands. The figure groaned again against her touches and she worked quickly.

“Shh. It’s alright. You’re going to be alright.” She said urgently as she saw the blood-stained tatters of a white shirt across the wizard’s chest. And around his shoulders, the dark robes of a Death Eater. Pausing she stared down at him, conflict suddenly raging inside of her.

Her hands were frozen just above the man’s chest, seeing the slight rise and fall with every staggering breath he took. She could stop. She could leave him and no one would know. He would be found in the morning, along with her friends and allies still scattered across the field. He was a Death Eater, he didn’t deserve her help. If anyone would have asked her three years ago when she began her training as a healer she would have said that every living being deserved to life and she would always do everything in her power to aid them. But that had been three years ago, and since then she had seen so much death. Death of her loved ones and death of the majority of her compassion, especially towards Death Eaters.

Gritting her teeth, she squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself to move. Gripping the man’s shirt, she ripped the tatters away and assessed the full thickness wounds that were slashed across his chest. A slight glow emitted from her wand as she ran it over the open flesh, wordlessly casting the healing charms she wished that she had never learned. She wished she could let this Death Eater die without feeling any remorse or obligation.

It was with this light that she saw something that made her pause in her work. The man’s face was illuminated by her work, and Hermione caught her breath as she recognized the silvery-blond hair that was matted with blood.

“Malfoy.” She breathed out, feeling her resolve crack again.

Catching herself she pushed everything aside except the blood. Dragging her eyes from his face she resumed her work.

His wounds were slowly closing when she felt the bright shock of heat flood through her; the signal. Looking down at Draco Malfoy, she was satisfied with her work. Cracks of apparition sounded across the field as the allies started to retreat at Harry’s command.

“They’re retreating!” A sharp cry sounded. One of the Death Eaters had cast the dark mark high in the air with a cackle of triumph.

Hermione was just about to push herself up to her feet to leave when she felt another flash of searing heat. Though this one was external to her instead of the internal flash that the order used as a signal to leave. This burning heat was right against her leg. She looked down quickly and saw Draco’s right arm pressed against her leg, burning hot and glowing with a slight green tinge. No, not his arm, she realized a moment too late, the dark mark.

She jumped as her school mate gasped and opened his eyes with a flash. Jumped again when he felt him reach wildly out for anything to hold onto and caught the front of her jacket. His eyes flashed with pain, and before she knew what was happening, Hermione felt the squeezing rush of apparition. But it didn’t come from her.

The world stopped spinning and she landed on her back with a thud, not having had time to prepare for a proper landing. Gasping to catch her breath she lay there for a moment before the panic set in. What the hell, she thought as she scrambled to roll over, she hadn’t even raised her wand.

She looked wildly around her, the dark walls around her were glistening with wetness, sloping high overhead with sharp turrets of rock hanging over them. _A cave, I’m in a bloody cave,_ she thought numbly as her gaze drew upwards. The air was damp and musty as she pushed herself to her knees, relief flooding through her as she felt her wand still clutched tightly in her hand.

A movement a few feet from her caught her attention and she froze as Draco Malfoy pushed himself up into a sitting position, holding his head as he did.

Her breath was caught in her throat as she sat completely looking at him, scared to breath let alone move. He didn’t seem to notice she was there. His breath was ragged in the otherwise silent cave and his left hand pulled back the sleeve on his right arm, revealing the dark mark that seemed to shimmer as she watched it, the glow from earlier slowly fading with each second passed.

Draco rubbed at it as if to banish a pain before looking up for the first time and peering at his surroundings. He cursed and shook his head, moving slowly to his knees before raising his head fully and met her eyes. His expression was one of pure shock.

“Granger…” The word fell from his lips, trying to comprehend what he was seeing.

She was sitting just feet from him, looking as scared as a rabbit in a fox’s den. The fear vanished in an instant and he reacted, raising his own wand as she raised hers. But neither of them moved to cast anything, both waiting for the other to act.

After a few seconds Draco unclenched his jaw. “What the hell are you doing here?” He asked, his voice hard with anger, with hatred, but still his wand was silent.

Hermione didn’t move, too warry to shift her position. Not willing to give him the slightest advantage.

“Fucking answer me.” Draco said, louder this time as he slowly stood to his feet. She flinched but followed his ascent, scrambling on the slippery, wet ground while he had been smooth and graceful. They stood facing each other, both of their wands still trained on the other.

“I don’t know.” Hermione said, startled by the fear in her voice, the slight waver of it. Over the past four years of fighting, she had escaped death countless times. Maybe, she thought, her luck had finally run out.

A loud burst of noise to their right caught their attention and they both whipped their heads towards the sound. Around the curve of the cave Hermione could see bright flashes of light appear, followed by cackles of laughter and shouts of what sounded like a thousand people echoing off the cave walls.

Momentarily distracted, her wand arm lowered slightly, just enough for Malfoy to notice and take his chance. She grunted as he pushed her sharply against the wall, her back and head slammed shockingly into the hard stone. She felt her wand slip from her grasp as his arm pressed across her chest and shoulders as he pointed the tip of his wand against her neck.

“I’ll ask you one last time.” He snarled, his face only inches from hers as she froze under his grasp. They grey eyes were devoid of life and she felt fear grip her again at the iciness in them. “What the fuck are you doing here?”

She didn’t note immediately that his voice was quieter, or that he didn’t call out to the others that were only separated from them by a bend in the cave.

“I saved your life.” She said, just as harshly, tilting her head back to avoid the sharp point of his wand against her throat. If she was going to die, then she was not going to do so afraid.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to glare at her, pressing her even harder against the rock as she didn’t say anything more.

She felt tears sting her eyes as a sharp point of the cave wall dug straight into her back, she could feel it press through the skin on her back. Gritting her teeth, she focused her gaze on Malfoy’s grey eyes. “You were dying, and I healed you. You were bleeding out in the field, then you apparated and you bloody took me with you.” Her voice was low and harsh, wishing she could spit in his face.

The voices across the cave grew louder, almost as if they were approaching. Then Hermione heard it and her heart stopped cold.

“My friends.” The slippery, cold voice of Voldemort echoed louder above the celebrations. “We must gather.”

She hadn’t noticed that she had started to tremble at the words, but Malfoy had. He felt her start to shake beneath his arm and saw the fear glaze over her eyes as they saw past him towards the lights flickering against the cave walls. He glared at her for a few seconds more, gritting his teeth as the voices seemed to round the corner and grow closer.

“Now, where is Draco?” The icy voice sounded across the cave and Hermione’s frightened, brown eyes moved back to meet the grey ones in front of her.

After what seemed like a lifetime he moved. Shoving against her, he took a step back, still pointing his wand at her. “Fuck it.” Draco said under his breath before flicking his wand in her direction. She gasped, waiting for the flash of green that would end her life. Instead, the world crashed down around her and she was sucked once again into a spinning vortex.

Her breathe left her body as she landed again, falling to the hard floor beneath her with a crash. The impact left her right ankle burning in pain as it twisted beneath her. Panting she opened her eyes, looking wildly around her and felt her heart stop once again. She wasn’t in the cave. But she knew exactly where she was.

A large portrait hung at the end of the room, three figures stared out at her, two sets of grey eyes bored past her. She wasn’t dead, at least not yet.

***

Draco felt his heart race as Hermione vanished with a soft pop. The events of the past few hours rushed through his mind and he struggled to push back any thoughts of Hermione, banish them behind the wall he had worked meticulously to build in his mind over the past several years. He had made his choice, now he needed to block it out. Turning he looked around him, searching for any indication that she had been there. There was nothing.

Breathing deeply and schooling his thoughts he turned towards the voices as Voldemort once again asked for him, this time there was an edge of fierce anger in his voice. The Dark Lord did not like to ask twice.

Draco walked briskly around the corner in the cave and stepped out into the light, blinking in the sudden brightness. Pushing past the others crowded in the space, he forced his face to be impassive as he moved forward to face the Dark Lord.

“Here, my Lord.” He said, calmly as he stepped out into the open.

Voldemort saw him then and a flash of anger passed across his red eyes before it disappeared. “Ahhh… Draco. I knew you’d make it out, my faithful general.”

Draco’s face remained impassive as a stone as he inclined his head slightly to the figure in front of him. Over the past four years since the battle at Hogwarts, Voldemort could cease to be called a man. His skin had turned scaly and the features of his face even more pointed and drawn, as if the snake inside was shedding its human skin.

The slanted red eyes met his again and the sudden rush of anger filled him as Draco felt Voldemort push into his mind. He steeled himself, bringing thoughts of the battle to the forefront of his memory, letting Voldemort sift gleefully through them as he observed the carnage his followers had bestowed upon the order members. He watched with Voldemort as order members fell before his outstretched wand, as people died all around him. But nothing came forward regarding Granger.

And just as quickly as he had entered, the Dark Lord freed his mind. Draco closed his eyes for a moment as the regaining of control flooded through him. He could hear Voldemort gleefully laughing, calling out to the rest of the Death Eaters in the room that they had done well. That the order would fall soon.

The shouts of celebration sounded around him again and Draco steeled himself as Voldemort stepped suddenly forward, bringing himself within inches of Draco’s face. He felt the cold hand rest on his shoulder as the snakelike figure leaned near.

“You have done well Draco.” The voice hissed out, quieter now, only meant for him.

“Thank you, my lord.” He said, inclining his head towards the figure. The icy feeling surrounding him made his skin stand up in gooseflesh.

“And what is this?” Voldemort asked almost aloofly, and Draco glanced down at where he indicated, looking at his own bare blood streaked chest. Granger had said he was bleeding. He could see the faint, thin cuts across his chest and knew that they must have been much deeper to produce the amount of blood that had obviously soaked through his shirt, leaving it dark and stiff against his skin.

“I was hit, My Lord.” Draco said calmly, brushing off his injury as easily as he could. He refused to show weakness, knowing Voldemort found power in other’s weaknesses.

The red eyes stared at him for a long minute before Voldemort stepped back, extending his hand out in front of him.

“Then you must be healed. Return home Draco, for I have need of you yet.” The silky voice commanded before he turned away from the wizard in front of him.

Draco waited until Voldemort had joined another group of cloak shrouded figures before turning away. He tried to ignore the sting of pain in his chest now that he had noticed the wounds. As calmly as he could, he made his way around the corner and apparated, knowing he would have a much greater problem waiting for him.

He landed with a crack that sounded through the room. Glancing around his bedroom he scanned the still space around him, looking for her. He was just about to turn when a heavy, hard object crashed into the back of his head, sending him staggering forward.

He growled at the impact and spun on his feet, raising his wand in front of him. Narrowing his eyes, he glared at the woman in front of him. She was breathing hard as she raised the large metal and wood bound book behind her head again. It was almost comical, he thought, as he surveyed her. Of course she would use a book as a weapon. He flicked his wand and the book flew from her hands. Another flick and he had her once again pinned to the wall behind her.

Hermione struggled against the invisible force holding her, not taking her eyes off of Malfoy’s grey ones as he stepped towards her. A cry of frustration bubbled up in her throat as her efforts to escape were proving futile.

“Let me go.” She growled at him, flinching as his wand once again pressed to her throat.

He smirked. The fucking bastard, she thought. His sneer was not the last thing she wanted to see before she died. But was she going to die? He hadn’t killed her in the cave, he had sent her here. 

“Now Granger,” His voice was icy, and she stopped her struggling at the similarities she heard from Voldemort voice not an hour ago. “Are you going to stop struggling or shall I bring you back to my friends in the cave?”

Hermione glared at him, wishing with everything she had that she could hit the self-satisfied look off his face. But she stopped her wiggling, knowing she didn’t have any other choice.

After a few seconds she raised her eyebrows at him, “Well? Are you going to let me go?”

The coldness of his features didn’t waver as he continued to stare at her. “Are you going to hit me again?”

She narrowed her eyes and as much as she wished she could assuredly say that she would like nothing better than to beat him over the head with anything she could get her hands on, she shook her head.

“Good.” He dropped his wand but kept his eyes on her as he backed away. She felt her feet touch the ground again as the pressure-like weight against her chest and abdomen disappeared. They stood, warily watching each other from across the room.

“Where are we?” She asked after a moment, her voice hard and quick.

He raised his eyebrows at her. If she hadn’t figured it out by now, then she really was not living up to her reputation as the brightest witch of her age.

She glared at him, seeing the shift in his facial features. “I mean I know this is Malfoy Manor. It’s not exactly subtle.” She said, gesturing to the large painting of him and his parents that adorned the far wall of the room. “I mean, where in the manor?”

He tilted his head at her. “Does it matter? You’re here with a Death Eater. Someone who has been trying to kill you and your stupid little friends for years, and you’re concerned about what room of my house you’re in?” She was definitely not the brightest witch of her age, Draco thought as he continued to watch her.

She was smaller than he remembered, her petite frame seemed swamped by the vastness of the grand room around her. The curly brown hair was falling out of the braid he assumed it had once been once been neatly plaited into, causing locks to fall in loose around her face and shoulders. It was long, he noted, hanging over the curve of her breasts. Her skin was pale against the black of her shirt and jacket, as if she had been kept from the sun for ages. But her eyes were as fierce as he remembered, the molten brown staring back at him.

“Malfoy you could have killed me in a moment in the cave.” Her voice brought his attention back to the present. “You could have presented me to Voldemort and been a hero to the Death Eaters.” Her eyes narrowed and she clenched her hands, remembering the fear she had felt at the possibility. “But you didn’t. You didn’t kill me then, and you aren’t going to kill me now.”

The mask of cold dropped over his face once again and he took a single step towards her and flicked his wand at her. Hermione gasped as she felt pressure and pain wrap around her chest and throat like a vice. It was so intense that she choked on her breathe and dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands wildly clutching at the invisible crushing force.

Draco stepped slowly towards her, watching the fear return to her features. He dropped into a crouch in front of her, reaching out a hand to tip her chin up so her panicked eyes met his. “I have no problem killing you, remember that Granger.” His voice was eerily calm as he held her gaze and she couldn’t read his face.

Her lungs were screaming for air and tears started to prick her eyes. Just as quickly as the pressure had begun, it was gone. Malfoy stood quickly and tucked his wand into his robes, turning away as Hermione collapsed to the floor in front of him gasping for air.

“You fucking, evil bastard.” She breathed out with her first full exhale, pushing herself up to her knees to watch him. The anger seeping through her blood was like nothing she had ever felt before. The hate she felt for him growing up in school was nothing like the rage that flooded her senses now.

“Oh please, Granger.” Malfoy said, dropping into a chair near the large French doors across the doors. “Is that the best you’ve got.”

Hermione seethed as she got to her feet again, rooted in the spot as she kept her eyes trained on him. “If you have no problem killing me then why didn’t you?” She asked at last, watching as he raised his head to lazily meet her eyes again. The moonlight seeping in through the windows behind him illuminated his hair but darkened the contours of his face as he tilted his head at her.

Finally, he shrugged and held up his hand to examine his fingernails. “It seemed like a waste.”

Seeing that his gaze was no longer on her, Hermione let her eyes dart around the room once again. She had been in there for over an hour since Malfoy had unceremoniously dumped her on her ass in the room. Even though there were large windows on either side of the French doors that led out to a balcony of sorts, none of them would open. She had tried in vain every method of escape but without her wand, she had no resources and her surroundings were heavily warded.

Turning her eyes back to him she scanned his person for her wand, knowing that it had fallen from her hand in the cave. “A waste?” She asked, using whatever time she could to race through options in her mind. She just needed to get his wand.

He looked up at her again. “Yes. A waste.” Leaning forward, he leaned his forearms against his knees. “See I’ve heard that you’ve become quite the little healer, Granger. And we all know how closely ingrained you are in the order.”

Her heart had begun to race. “If you seriously think that I’m going to give you any information, you’re delusional. You can kill me now; I will never tell you anything.”

He smirked at her assumptions and shook his head. “Oh, you’ll help me, I’m sure of it.”

“And why would I ever do that? You’re a Death Eater.” She said simply, her anger rising at his confident assurance that she was going to just hand over information on her friends without a fight.

“Because,” he said his grey eyes never leaving hers as he stood and took a step towards her. “We both seem to want the same thing.”

Hermione automatically took a step backwards as he took another step towards her. She had no way to protect herself and her heart rate started to increase again. “Which is?”

Malfoy smirked again but the grin slid from his face as quickly as it had appeared. His voice was deadly serious when he spoke again, the iciness of it making Hermione pay attention. “Voldemort has to die.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've added some images at the bottom in order to show you all how I'm picturing characters as well as settings. It's hard as a writer to fully describe the scenes that are so vivid in your mind so I've tried to represent them as well as I can. I do not own any of the pictures or any part of the Harry Potter universe. I'm just obsessed like so many others :)

Hermione felt her mouth drop open at his words, never in a million years having expected them to come from his lips. The order numbers had waxed and waned since the battle at Hogwarts, witches and wizards devoting their lives to ridding the world of Voldemort’s rule. They all had a common goal: to kill the snake-man. But Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater, to even speak such a sentence was a death wish.

“I’m sorry, what did you just say?” She asked, still not trusting her ears to have heard him correctly.

Malfoy’s expression didn’t waver, his face was still as smooth and as impassive as it had been seconds before. “Voldemort needs to die. And you and your friends are going to help me kill him.” He turned away from her again and let her process his words, sitting back in the seat he had vacated to watch the wheels spin in her mind.

“I still don’t get it.” Hermione said, her stubborn, logical brain not allowing her to believe his words. “You’re a Death Eater.” She said bluntly.

Malfoy nodded. “Very observant of you Granger. Ten points to Gryffindor. And?”

She blinked in exasperation, “ _And.._ what? There isn’t anything more. You Malfoy, are a Death Eater. Devoted follower of Voldemort. In fact,” She paused raising her brows at him. “Our latest sources tell us that you’re not just a Death Eater but embedded in Voldemort's inner circle.”

Malfoy nodded again and continued to watch her. His lack of emotion or explanation was really starting to annoy her. “I repeat. And?”

Reaching the end of her patience, Hermione made a small noise and took a step forward. Her sneakers squeaked a bit on the dark hardwood floors as she moved. “Malfoy, you just told me that you want to kill Voldemort. To kill your master. The one you have spent the last six years serving, not to mention the decades that your family has devoted to him and his cause. You are one of the ranking members of his council and you are saying that you want to kill him. Please, tell me this is sounding as crazy to you as it does to me.”

“Look,” Draco sighed and pushed up out of his chair. He paused when he saw her take a hesitant step backwards at his movements. Sighing he ran a hand through his silvery locks that still held the mats of dried blood from the battle. “Relax Granger, I think we’ve already established that if I was going to kill you, I would have already done it.”

She didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking chagrined. Instead she stared unblinking at him, a cold expression crossing her face. “Just because you won’t kill me doesn’t mean you are above other methods of harming someone. I’ve seen you fight before. I know you have no problem hurting people.”

He blinked at her, knowing her words were true. He tried to push back the memories of the many battles he had fought in for the Dark Lord. How many people he had thrown aside like nothing more than a piece of rubbish? He knew that she was exactly right.

Calmly, he tossed his wand to the seat he had just vacated and slowly held up his empty hands in front of him. Her eyes flickered in surprise but immediately found his again. “I’m not going to hurt you. I already told you, I need your help.”

“To kill Voldemort.”

“Yes.” His face was shadowed for a moment by the branch of a tree passing across the slowly waning moonlight, then it was clear again. “We both know that I have done terrible things, but you need to understand that this wasn’t exactly entirely my choice.”

She snorted softly at his words and he narrowed his eyes at her. “I have been raised under fear of the Dark Lord for my entire life. My parents told me stories since I was an infant about the wizard who was going to cleanse the world and destroy anyone who stood in their path. I was told that the Dark Lord was the only way to bring about peace in our world and all who opposed him were our enemy.” His voice was sharp, but Hermione sensed the edge of fatigue that ran through it.

“That still doesn’t excuse your actions.” Hermione said. "You always had a choice." 

Laughing slightly, he shook his head at her. “Granger, why do you believe that what you’re doing is right?”

She was taken aback by his question. “Because it is. Because we are fighting against terror and murder and everything bad in this world.”

“Okay.” Draco said simply. “Well I was raised that you were the bad in this world. I was raised to look at a mud-“ his voice cut off, “at a muggle-born and think them dirty and tainted. We were raised very differently, and we are both who we are because of that.”

She noticed his slip and hardened a bit more against him. “It doesn’t matter. I’ve never killed anyone. There is no way to explain murdering innocent people, no matter how you were raised.”

Draco nodded. “Well good thing I’ve never killed anyone either.”

He smirked as he saw the surprise flicker across her face at this.

“You’re lying. I’ve seen you do it with my own eyes so please don’t treat me like I’m an idiot. I have been on every battle field since we were seventeen. I’ve seen you fight.”

“Yes, you’ve seen me fight. But I swear on my mother’s grave that I have never killed anyone.” His grey eyes were like steel as he tilted his head to her. “I have some morals.”

She scoffed and turned away from him, once again surveying the room they were standing in. There was a large canopied bed across from the door she could only assume led to the rest of the manor. Dark green, silky covers were arranged perfectly on the mattress and seemed to shift against the darkness. The ornate rug under the armchairs by the fireplace was a deeper shade of green, intricate patterns sprinkled across it in black and silver. If she didn’t know better, this could have been the Slytherin dormitories instead of what she assumed was his bedroom. The thought of being here, alone in his bedroom with him made her even more uncomfortable. 

Turning back to him she found that he was watching her, and she felt a slight flush come to her cheeks, thankful for the shadows cast across her face. “Say I believe you.”

“Which would be a first.” He interrupted but then pressed his lips together at her annoyed look.

“I don’t believe you, Malfoy. Not for a moment.” Her voice was harsh and she hoped that he knew she meant it. “But for curiosities sake, say I did. You have had ample opportunity to kill Voldemort up to this point. Why would you need the order’s help? Or mine for that matter?”

“You really think that no one has tried to off him before?” He asked. “There have been plenty in our ranks who had enough and tried to kill him. And yet he still lives. And those who tried are now rotting in the bottom of the sea.”

He shook his head at her and continued, “The goal is to come out of this alive Granger. But even if I was willing to simply sacrifice my life, obviously a simple killing curse isn’t going to cut it. They glance off him like stones skipping across a pond.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at this. The horcruxes were gone. She, Ron, Harry and Neville had destroyed them all four years prior. Voldemort should be susceptible to any form of death at this point. Or at least that was the assumption the order had been operating under for years. Already his insight was proving valuable, she thought but immediately tried to suppress it. 

“I don’t know how to kill him. And I need your lots help because that is what you have been working towards for years. Maybe combining efforts will actually be enough to yield some results.”

Draco cross the room to one of the cabinets in the corner by the windows. He pulled out a bottle of dark, swirling liquid and a glass, pausing for a moment to glance over his shoulder at her and raise both the glass and his brows inquisitively at her. “Want some?”

Hermione shook her head and he moved back to the chair he had been sitting in before, setting the decanter on the table in front of him and pouring out a generous amount of the amber liquid. He tossed the contents of the glass back and without even so much as a grimace, filled the glass again.

Beyond his head Hermione saw the faintest lightening of the sky that signaled the dawning of a new day. The proof that the world was still spinning caused panic to raise in her throat. The others, she thought with a start. It had to have been at least four hours since the end of the battle. Harry and Ron would have immediately looked for her as was their custom to find each other after each fight. And she wasn’t there.

Her panic rose to the surface and she stepped closer to the man now nursing his second glass. “Malfoy, I need to go.” He looked up at her. “People are going to be looking for me.”

Draco snorted, “Well of course they are. A piece of the golden trio gone missing? The whole bloody world is probably falling apart.” 

“But,” he continued. “I’m afraid I can’t let you go without you saying that you’re going to help.”

With the matter of fact tone of voice, it took Hermione a few seconds to process what he had just said. In all his confessions about wanting Voldemort dead, she had mistakenly thought he had grown a conscience. “And if I don’t?”

His cold grey eyes met hers again. “Then I’ll hand you strait over to him. I may have an issue with killing people, but I can assure you, the Dark Lord does not.”

“You wouldn’t.” She said, the note of fear in her voice already contradicting her words. She had no idea who this version of Malfoy was. He certainly wasn’t the same teenager who had scurried away with his parents after the battle of Hogwarts. He was cold, his features as hard as marble and his eyes pierced hers as he stared at her.

“Granger, I just told you the one thing that is guaranteed to get me tortured and killed if it ever made it’s way back to the Dark Lord or any of his followers. You really think that I would just let you go so that you could spread the rumor that Draco Malfoy was looking to rebel?”

She clenched her hands into fists. This is exactly what she had known the moment he told her he wanted Voldemort dead. She knew the consequences of any sign of disobedience to Voldemort in his ranks. The order had found too many mangled bodies of ex-Death Eaters over the years to dismiss it.

Hermione took a deep breath and ran a hand through her hair, causing more strands to fall from the braid. Frustrated, she yanked at the elastic holding the rest of the strands confined and shook her head, causing the chestnut curls to fall freely down her back. “It seems I don’t have much of a choice then.” She said, clipping the ends of her words as she tucked the curls behind her ears.

Facing her new reality, she began to pace across the dark floor. “So, what is your plan exactly?” She asked after a few minutes, ceasing her tiresome movements to turn back to him.

Draco tilted his head as he studied the contents of his glass, now half empty with the pink light from the sky outside glinting off of the swirling liquid. “I don’t have a plan.” He said simply, raising the glass to his lips and his eyes met hers.

“What do you mean you don’t have a plan?” Hermione asked, her eyes growing wide at this. The thoughts already racing around her brain picking up speed. “How can you not have a plan?”

The tone of her voice irked him, reminding him of a teacher scolding their pupil. The table rattled a bit as he set the glass down, more forcefully than he meant to. “Well it’s not exactly like I expected to bring you back with me tonight. It wasn’t like I’ve had time to make an elaborate plan since waking up and finding you there. Voldemort needs to die. That’s about as far as I’ve gotten.”

Hermione felt flustered and overwhelmed. “Then what do you expect us to do? We’ve been trying to end this for years. Obviously, nothing we have tried has worked. It’s not like we have some grand plan that we’ve just been keeping a secret from everyone.”

“No kidding.” Draco said, standing from the chair again and moving towards the window to glance out to the grounds below the balcony. Normally the gardening staff would be out by this time and he couldn’t risk them seeing in, seeing her.

“I’m saying that I have information. Real information. Not the backdoor crap you’ve been using in the past, from quite unreliable sources if I might add.” He drew the heavy drapes across the large windows, effectively blocking out any remnants of light from the approaching sun. Picking up his wand again he waved it at a few of the lanterns hanging from the walls, lighting the room with a soft glow.

“I know the ins and outs of Voldemort’s world. You really think that you couldn’t use me? That I don’t have some insight that you need?”

Hermione was biting her lip as she considered this. He was right, their sources over the years had been nothing more than people who thought they overheard plans made between Death Eaters. Only a few times had they ever panned out and even then, it was never enough of a help to actually make a difference.

“Even so, I can’t just waltz you back to the order. We have rules, precautions. You wouldn’t even be able to get in let alone talk to anyone.” She thought about headquarters and the fidelius charm they had finally been able to cast over number 12 Grimmauld Place. With Harry as secret keeper, only close order members knew about the location. She couldn’t reveal to Malfoy where it was or even what it was called without Harry.

“The only way you would ever get in is by direct invitation. And since you are not willing to let me go back alone, then I have no way of talking with anyone there to have them bring you in.” She said. The candlelight in the room was now glinting off of the brown curls that rustled with every movement she made. “So either you let me go back and discuss your proposal with the others, or you keep me here and Voldemort wins.”

Draco cursed the order and their “rules” as he huffed out a breath. Of course they would have a fidelius charm. And of course Hermione wouldn’t be made secret keeper.

“How am I supposed to trust that you’ll come back?” He asked finally, conceding to the logic that had been so easily laid out before him. He took a step towards her and Hermione was reminded of a cat hunting its prey. His movements were graceful but she could see the energy behind them, the underlying tension that suggested he would pounce at any minute.

“You’ll just have to.” She breathed out.

He gave a slight smile that held no humor, “I don’t think so.”

“There doesn’t seem to be any other choice.” Hermione said, taking a small step back. She hadn’t noticed that she was too close to the wall, it was almost at her back when she reached a tentative hand behind her. Without her wand she felt powerless, weak, fearful.

He took another short step and Hermione held up her hands. “Look, I saved your life and you saved mine. Obviously neither of us is too keen on letting others die. And you need me as much as we need you in order to kill him.”

She took another breath as he opened his mouth to protest. “Malfoy, we have been trying to end this for years. I’m not stupid enough to throw away this opportunity. Please, you need to trust me.”

His mouth closed and he considered her for a moment. She looked like a frightened mouse, but he knew that there was true strength underneath the layer of fear, true Gryffindor courage that made her strong. It felt like all control was slipping away from him in a situation that had started out with him having all of the control. How could she take that away in the prison of his own home, in his domain?

But there was pleading in her eyes. She was right, they needed him as much as he needed them. It was the only way now. Sighing he took a deep breath and accepted the path she had set them on when she decided to save his life in that field.

Cave

Hermione

Draco

Death eaters

General aesthetic of Draco's bedroom 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. I guess being quarantined has its perks!  
> I've included more pictures at the end. Let me know if this is helpful to anyone, or annoying? I've always appreciated it with other's stories and like to see how writers picture their characters. Obviously everyone is more grown up now so I've tried to find pictures that reflect that :)

“So,” Hermione asked, seeing the final resignation cross across Draco’s face. “How am I supposed to get out of here.”

Draco looked around his bedroom walls. The Manor was protected by some of the most intensive wards he had ever seen. As it had served as headquarters for Voldemort at a time, no expense was spared to protect the place. Unfortunately, after Voldemort had moved underground, the wards had not been lifted. No one besides the Malfoys, Voldemort and other Death Eaters were allowed access in or out of the manor.

His eyes lighted momentarily as an idea struck him. “Kildy.” He said.

Hermione raised her brows at him in confusion. “Who or what is Kildy?”

She had barely finished her question when a loud crack echoed through the room, causing Hermione to jump and spin to see the origin of they noise. A house elf stood not five feet from her. It’s large floppy ears were tucked neatly under a bonnet like hat and the shapeless black dress she wore was hanging off of her thin frame.

“Master called for Kildy?” The elf said, apprehensively looking between Draco and Hermione. Her large blue eyes were wide with curiosity and fear. The whole wizarding world knew who Hermione was, and obviously, so did the elf.

“Yes, I did.” Draco said, taking a few steps towards her. “But first you need to know that what you witness in this room, no.. in this house, for the rest of your life will never be repeated to anyone. Do you understand?”

His tone was quite harsh and Hermione wanted to reprimand him for it. Obviously house elves were required to do exactly as their master commanded. If possible, Kildy’s eyes grew larger at her masters words.

“Of course, Master Draco. Kildy would never dream of speaking of what she sees here. Kildy has served the Malfoy family faithfully her entire life.” Her tone was just as serious as Malfoy’s had been and she seemed to be on the verge of tears.

Surprisingly, Draco’s face relaxed and he crouched in front of the elf. Hermione watched in confusion as he spoke softly to her.

“I know. And I’m sorry for any implication that you would betray us. I only need to make sure that the order is explicitly said, this is too important to risk.” If Hermione hadn’t known who was speaking she would have thought there was a hint of affection in his voice, but quickly brushed the thought aside.

“Now,” Draco continued, standing from his crouched position. “You can apparate outside of the Manor, right?”

Kildy nodded, the silly bonnet on her head bouncing with the movement. “Yes, sir. Kildy leaves every Saturday to gather supplies for the master’s kitchen.”

“Only on Saturdays?” Draco asked, furrowing his brows a bit.

She shook her head, “Kildy can leave at any time, sir. As long as the master wishes it.”

“And you can take someone with you?” He already knew the answer to this question, remembering the house elf Dobby and how he had apparated away with Harry, Ron and Hermione after they had been interrogated. Tortured, Draco corrected himself, Hermione had been tortured.

He momentarily felt a pang of guilt as he realized he had brought her back to the same place that probably ranked among her worse memories. But if he hadn’t, she most certainly would have been found and killed in the cave.

“Kildy, I’d like you to take Miss Granger out of here, outside of the wards to…” He said, suddenly unsure of where she needed to go. He turned to Hermione for more information and watched as she bit her lip, seeing her internal struggle of giving away precious information.

Finally, she sighed and nodded, knowing that this was the only way. “She can take me to my flat. There isn’t a fidelius charm and the wards are relatively low given that I’m not there much recently. From there I can get in touch with the order.”

Draco nodded, turning to the elf who was watching Hermione with interest as she spoke. “Kildy will take Miss to her flat.”

“Malfoy..” Hermione said, looking between him and the elf. “You told her that she couldn’t repeat anything that had happened within the manor.”

Smart, of course she would think of that, Draco thought and turned back to the elf. “Kildy, you are not allowed to talk about what happens in the Manor, or anything that happens while you are with Miss Granger or around any of her friends. Understood?”

Kildy nodded eagerly. “Leaving now, Miss?” She asked Hermione, taking a tentative step towards her.

“Not yet.” Draco said. “You may go for now; I will call you when we are ready.”

The elf bowed slightly to Draco and dissapparated with a ‘pop’. Alone in the room once again, Hermione felt her nerves prickle. At least with Kildy present she had felt some odd form of reassurance that .

“Now,” Draco said, turning back to her. “How can I get in contact with you once you’ve left?”

Another thing to figure out, Hermione thought as she furrowed her brows in thought. Patronuses were definitely out, anyone could see them coming and going from the Manor. The floo network wouldn’t work until Harry had decided to let Draco in on the secret of the headquarters.

She closed her eyes briefly and smiled slightly as the idea came to her. Malfoy was going to blow a gasket. Hermione reached into the back pocket of the jeans she wore and pulled out her mobile phone. She was the only one in the order to use them and she had been trying to convince Harry and Ron to get them. It was a perfect solution, untraceable by magic, no record of contact that any pureblood wizard would think to look at.

Draco watched in confusion as she held out the small device to him. “What is it?”

Hermione laughed slightly, almost enjoying this moment. “It’s a cell phone. I can call you on it once I get out.”

He eyed it hesitantly before reaching out and taking it gingerly from her hands. “What spell do you use?” He asked, turning the small box over in his hands, studying it.

Her grin grew wider. “No spell at all. It’s muggle technology. I’ll have another one on my end and call the number that corresponds to this phone. All you have to do is open it up to answer when you feel it vibrate.”

His brows were furrowed when he looked up at her again and she immediately felt the smile slip off her face. This wasn’t a friend who she could tease about their lack of exposure to muggle technology. This wasn’t Ron who had proclaimed loudly that the cell phone was too complicated before he threw it across the room and glared at it. This was Malfoy, the person who had stood by while she was tortured by his aunt in this very house. The person who had been the right hand of Voldemort for almost three years. He wasn’t her friend.

“It’s the best way for now.” Hermione said, her expression once again serious. “We can figure out something different later.”

Draco nodded and looked back to the phone. “So I just open it?”

Hermione nodded, stepping forward to take the phone from him and demonstrate. Draco noticed how cold her hands were as they grazed his but tried to ignore it. After a few demonstrations of how to use the cell phone, they were ready.

“I’ll talk to Harry and Ron. Harry has the most pull in the order and I’ll need them to help convince everyone else.” I’ll have to convince them first which was challenge enough, Hermione added silently. “As soon as there’s been a decision I’ll call you.”

Draco nodded severely, knowing that they were both putting a lot on the line for this. He didn’t trust her and she didn’t trust him, but for now, they had to at least pretend that they did.

Just before he was about to call Kindy back, he looked up at her. “You promise your going to try and convince them?”

His face looked almost vulnerable when she looked up at him in surprise. His distrust of her was natural, she could only imagine how things worked within Voldemort’s circle, everyone competing for his favor. “I promise.” She tried to keep her tone even and serious, hoping that he would see that she was taking this seriously.

“Alright. Kildy!” He said, louder this time, without any of the vulnerability of the moment past.

“Wait, where is my wand?” Hermione asked, suddenly remembering its absence. Now that she remembered it she felt almost naked without it.

Grimacing he pulled the wand from the pocket of his robes. In the cave he had seen in lying on the ground just moments after he had sent her to the Manor. It felt like ages ago when the events had occurred, so much had happened since then. She snatched it from his hand when he extended it out to her, cradling it against her chest like a baby. A wizard’s wand was their lifeline, their access to magic. He knew how much better she must feel with it.

The resounding crack of the house elf appearing broke the silence. The elf stepped towards Hermione and offered her hand which Hermione took without hesitation, she was eager to leave now that she had her wand back.

“Alright,” Draco began, starting to feel anxious about letting her go. She was, at this point, his only hope. “Remember your promise Granger.”

She glanced up at him from the elf and nodded. And with another pop, they were gone, leaving the room empty and silent. Draco cursed under his breath at the empty room, staring at the spot where she had just stood. He was dead. There was no way around it. There was no way that Granger would help him, after everything he had put her and her friends through in school, there was just no possibility. Sighing he ran a hand through his hair, but she had promised, he thought.

There was nothing he could do about it now anyways. She was gone. Resigned, he crossed the room to the adjoining bathroom and finally got out of the blood-stained clothes he had been wearing since the bloody field. Stepping into the heat of the shower, he tilted his head back and let the water pound over his sore muscles. It was irrational, but for the first time in a long time, he felt hope.

***

The impact of landing jolted her, sending a shock up her legs. She teetered for a second before collapsing back on the couch in her own living room, immediate relief washing over her in the familiar surroundings. Kildy stood awkwardly by, looking around the space with her wide blue eyes.

“Thank you Kildy.” Hermione said, seeing how uncomfortable the elf was.

Kildy nodded slightly to Hermione before disappearing with a pop, leaving Hermione in blissful, peaceful silence.

The quiet lasted less than three seconds before several bangs sounded off from the inside of her walls. Startled, Hermione jumped to her feet just in time to see Harry, Ron and Bill Weasley apparate into her apartment. Before she could even express her delight in seeing them, Ron had disarmed her and Harry had rushed her and pinned her up against the wall, his wand pointed in her face. She really was tired of this treatment, she thought briefly.

Harry wasted no time. “What did Hemione Granger attack Ron with our sixth year at Hogwarts?” His voice was calm and even, but the green of his eyes sparked with fire as he spoke.

Hermione rolled her eyes, the security questions they asked her always seemed to be about some embarrassing moment in her life. But she knew they were necessary. “Canaries. Now will you get off me.”

Harry relaxed in relief before pulling her into a bone crushing hug. Ron immediately joined them and wrapped his arms around his two friends, both of them clinging to Hermione.

“Merlin Hermione, we thought you were dead.” Harry breathed in her ear and she closed her eyes at his voice. The guilt she felt for worrying them was overwhelming. Over the past three years of fighting they had been diligent about making sure that each of them knew that the others were safe after every battle. She remembered the one time that Ron had forgotten and she had wanted to rip him to shreds for worrying them. And that time was only for an hour.

She opened her eyes and glanced over Harry’s shoulder at the clock on the adjacent wall, six hours had passed since the end of the battle. Six hours her best friends had been frantic with worry for her. Six hours they had thought her dead.

They pulled apart and Harry ran a hand over her hair, making sure that she was still there and alright. So many people had been lost in this war, she knew that he would never forgive himself if anything happened to her or Ron.

“Where were you?” Ron asked, his voice harder than Harry’s had been. He was obviously relieved that she was back, but now that they knew she was safe, the anger was starting to emerge.

Hermione glanced up at him and then over to Harry. “I’m sorry. There was no way to get a message to you.”

“What happened?” Harry asked.

“Ahem.” A voice sounded from behind them and the three turned to face Bill, who had all but been forgotten in the excitement. “This isn’t the time or place for that. We need to get her back to headquarters.”

Harry turned back to Hermione and studied her for a second before nodding. “Bill’s right. You can tell us there. Tell everyone there.”

Hermione swallowed. She knew that the best way to convince the order of letting Malfoy in would be to first convince Harry and Ron. There was no way this was going to work if she had to convince the entire order first. But it seems she didn’t have much of a choice.

Together they apparated, landing easily within the long front hallway of number 12 Grimmauld Place. Hermione took a deep inhale of the familiar musty scent, detecting the underlying spice of Mrs. Weasley’s baking. Her stomach growled and all at once she felt ravenous, not having eaten since before the battle.

Ron heard her and shot a quick grin over his shoulder. “No time. Everyone’s been mad with worry.”

True to his word, as soon as they stepped into the dining room where they held their meetings Hermione was bombarded by people. Ginny flew at her and gripped her tightly as Mrs. Weasley quickly made her way over, cupping Hermione’s cheeks to check for any injury.

“Oh, my dear.” She said as she enveloped Hermione in a hug. “We were so worried.”

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, leaning into the warmth and comfort of the hug. Mrs. Weasley was more of a mother to her now that Hermione’s own mother was gone, and she would never tire of the woman’s affection.

“I’m sorry. I really am. There was no way to send word.” She said at last, pulling away from the matriarch feeling even more guilty when she saw the glint of tears in the blue eyes. Mrs. Weasley had already lost two children to this war, losing another might be the end of her.

“Hermione, I think you’d better tell us all what happened.” A voice came from the other end of the room and Hermione glanced over to find Remus Lupin leaning against the table, staring at her with a serious expression.

She nodded and the other members started to take their seats around the long table the ran the length of the room. Hermione counted them all off as they sat, mentally making sure that all of them were safe as she would have done directly after the battle had she had the chance. Mrs. Weasley, Ginny, Mr. Weasley, George, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, Remus, Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville and Kingsley. She sighed in relief as everyone was accounted for, at least the inner order members. The rest of their ranks were likely at their homes after the battle, scattering after the battle.

Her mind went immediately to the makeshift hospital on the Burrows grounds and all of the people she had sent there from the field to be healed. Normally she went there directly after the fights. Having been trained as a healer directly after the battle of Hogwarts, she had been invaluable in caring for the injured after the war. As one of the only two healers within the order, she felt immediately bad for Blaise Zabini who would have had to take the brunt of the patients without her assistance.

After everyone was seated, they all turned their faced to her and she wished she could go to the hospital now. The prospect of telling these people what had happened to her over the past few hours was daunting.

“Whenever you’re ready Hermione.” Kingsley said in his bold, strong voice.

She nodded, cleared her throat and began. She told them of the battle field, of finding Malfoy and healing him. How his arm had started to glow and burn before he grabbed her and apparated them to the cave. Of Malfoy Manor, and of Malfoy’s proposal, and her agreement.

At this Ron was on his feet. “You told Malfoy what? That you’d help him? Are you bloody mental?”

Hermione glared at him. She had been watching the expression of the order members throughout her story, hoping to see some understanding from someone. But there was none, all of them looked at her with apprehension.

“Look it was my only way out of there. He wasn’t just about to let me go after telling me he wanted to kill Voldemort.” She retorted to Ron, feeling her own annoyance grow inside her. “I did the only thing that I could think of to get out alive. Or would you have rather he turned me over to Voldemort?”

Ron’s lips pressed into a line but he kept his mouth shut.

“Look,” Hermione continued. “Is it really that hard to even consider? We have been trying to end this for years. We have lost so many people. And now, someone who actually has an inside position in Voldemort’s ranks says he wants to help us and what? We’re just going to ignore it?”

No one said a word.

“I get that none of us like or trust Draco Malfoy. But he could have killed me a hundred time, or at least turned me over to Voldemort and been held up as a hero for it. But he didn’t. He saved my life like it or not. And I’m not going to ignore that.”

“How do you know he’s not just playing you?” Harry said. He was calm as he ran a hand through his messy black hair and met her eyes.

“You weren’t there Harry.” She said softer. “For whatever reason, I really think he wants to kill him. I don’t know why, but I think he’s serious. And I think we should help.” Her gaze turned back to the rest of the order with her final words.

They knew everything now, all that had happened to her. It was in their hands now whether to decide to allow Malfoy access, to trust him. Hermione sat down in her empty chair and waited for someone to speak. The silence was deafening, and she itched for someone to say something.

“I vote yes.” She looked up in surprise at the voice and saw that it was Neville that had spoken. Her lips quirked upwards in a slight smile, and he nodded slightly towards her. Sometimes it felt over the past three years that Neville was the only person who understood her. He had the same sense of empathy that she did, whereas the others had hardened.

“Be that as it may, Neville.” Lupin spoke, sending a look between Hermione and Neville. “It’s not exactly a voting matter. We don’t know anything about Mr. Malfoy’s plan.”

“He doesn’t have a plan.” Ron snorted, leaning back and crossing his arms in front of him.

Hermione shot him a look. “No, he doesn’t. But do you really think we can’t all come up with one? We’ve been spinning our wheels for months without any new information. Just think of what he could tell us.”

“And why would he do that?” George spoke up from the other end of the table. “What does he gain from this? He’s not exactly the selfless type Hermione.”

Ron raised his brows at her and held up a hand to gesture to George. She ignored him.

“I didn’t ask for this to happen you know.” Hermione said, annoyance and fatigue creeping into her voice. “It’s not like I went looking for Malfoy for help. It was an accident. But now, we have an opportunity to turn the tide in our favor and Malfoy is willing to help.”

She shook her head and cleared her throat again. “So, I’m sorry Remus but I believe that it is a voting matter. And I vote yes. We need to bring Malfoy in on this.”

She kept her tone level and met the eyes of her old professor. Since Mad-Eye Moody’s death, Remus Lupin had become the sort of leader of the Order of the Phoenix. His eyes didn’t leave hers as he tilted his head at her.

“Anyone else have an opinion on this?” He asked finally, still watching Hermione.

At the silence around the table he nodded. “Alright. Then let’s vote.” He said as he leaned forward in his chair. “All those in favor of allowing Draco Malfoy in…”

Hermione and Neville raised their hands in unison, followed by Charlie, Mr. Weasley, Ginny, Luna, Bill, Fleur, Kingsley and Harry.

“All opposed.”

Surprisingly, Mrs. Weasley’s hand went up along with an enthusiastic hand from Ron and a slightly more hesitant one from George. George didn’t surprise her, he had been the least forgiving to Death Eaters since the death of Fred. But Mrs. Weasley? Hermione eyed the red-haired women but found that she was looking at George. With the death of both Fred and Percy, Mrs. Weasley seemed to have taken the opinion that all death eaters were unforgivable.

“Then we have our answer.” Remus said, nodding to everyone around the table. “Harry, I’ll let you work with Hermione about brining him in. But,” He paused, making severe eye contact with Hermione. “You better be damn sure we can trust him.”

Hermione nodded, suddenly feeling the weight of their actions fall on her shoulders. They had allowed this because of her. What if she was wrong?

Voldemort (based more on the book description than the movie)

Harry Ron Ginny 

Dining room 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that these chapters are simply leading up to what we've all been waiting for. I promise things will get interesting in the next one :)

Draco woke form his sleep with a start. The dream that he had been consumed in was still at the edge of his mind and he remembered the look of fear across Granger’s face as he had killed her in his dream. Shaking his head he tried to banish the images. It hadn’t happened, he told himself, she had left… alive.

He glanced over to the window and saw that it was still covered by the curtain that had been drawn the night before. Getting out of bed he padded across the floor and drew back the thick green fabric. The light from the setting sun burned his eyes as he squinted out to the grounds below. He could see the freshly mowed grass from the gardener’s efforts throughout the day. He knew that soon he would be summoned to the Dark Lord’s presence.

He rubbed a hand across his bare chest, thankful to find that the last of the wounds from the battle had fully disappeared, without even leaving a trace of a scar. Hm, he thought, Granger was living up to her reputation so far.

Moving back across the room he entered the wardrobe and started to dress. Without his black Death Eater robes and mask he felt almost naked, feeling that too much of him was revealed without them. In the robes he was a Death Eater, no questions asked. And he liked the certainty of it. With his recent actions, he didn’t know what he was.

Sighing he buttoned the collar on his shirt and shrugged into the black jacket that he had selected. He ran a hand across the stubble on his chin and contemplated shaving, but a bright flash of heat on his arm had him hissing before he felt the familiar tug of the Dark Lord’s pull. The mode of summoning Voldemort had implemented in the past year had taken time to get used to. It had only taken a single time for a Death Eater to show up in the Dark Lord’s presence naked to make sure that they were always on their toes. Draco knew how to gauge when they would be summoned and arranged his life around it.

The cave was quieter than it had been the night before, several pops sounded around him as more Death Eaters appeared. Voldemort was at his usual spot at the head of the cave, lounging in the throne carved from the rock wall as he stroked his snakes head.

Draco narrowed his eyes at the snake, it always made him uneasy as it’s yellow eyes roamed lazily over the members in the cave as if looking for it’s next victim.

At last the air around them was silent. No one dared speak. It was usual for Voldemort to summon his followers after a fight, but the tone of the room held a sense of foreboding. Voldemort didn’t look up from his attentions to Nagini, murmuring softly to her as the rest of them watched him with fearful uncertainty.

“One of them.” Draco caught the Dark Lord saying. “But which one? Who has betrayed me?”

Draco felt his heart started to race at the words and he immediately pushed all unsafe memories behind the wall in his mind, protecting them against the possible onslaught from Voldemort. He knew, Voldemort always knew. He would find out immediately about any threats against him. And he had no problem taking action to rectify the situation.

Voldemort looking up as if sensing Draco’s internal panic. “One of you-“ he paused looking around “- has betrayed me.” 

Draco would sense the other members stiffen around him and glance around. Knowing that his only protection was his confidence, Draco kept his eyes directly on his master. Voldemort’s red eyes skimmed over him but even the momentary acknowledgement was enough to make Draco start to perspire.

“One of you, has decided that you no longer feel the need to follow my orders.” Voldemort continued, rising to his feet. His black robes slithered around him just like the snake that had just previously been on his lap.

His gaze flicked over his followers before he spoke again. His voice was chilling, and Draco almost didn’t hear what he said, almost didn’t recognize the name that fell from Voldemort’s lips.

“McNamara.”

At the sound a scuffle broke out at Draco’s right. The man, McGowan, a renowned healer from St. Mungos had apparently attempted to flee at the sound of his name. But with the anti-apparition shields the Dark Lord had Travers put in place on his orders, McGowan was stuck. It still surprised Draco that a healer would willingly follow the Dark Lord. Then again, being a healer does not automatically make you a good person.

The two Death Eaters gripping McGowan’s arms sneered at him as they dumped him unceremoniously at Voldemort’s feet. Draco could almost see the man shake as he kept his head bowed, not wanting to meet the deadly red eyes.

“What, a disappointment.” Voldemort crooned, looking down at the healer before him. “My friends.” He said, addressing the rest of the group with a sweep of his arms.

“This man has healed our enemy!” The emphasis on the last two words caused an eruption of protest from the Death Eaters and several of them spit out at the kneeled figure.

Draco saw the sneer creep back on to Voldemort’s face as he reveled in the support that rained down around him. “Silence.” He cried, turning with a swish back to the accused.

“I hope that it was worth it.” He said softly as he raised his wand.

McGowan finally met his eyes and started to speak just as the flash of green light from Voldemort’s wand struck him in the chest. Draco kept his face impassive as he watched the life leave the man’s eyes and his body slump to the ground. His grey eyes stared into the empty blue ones that were still open, staring lifelessly back at him.

Blinking Draco turned his face back to the Dark Lord’s, finding that Voldemort was watching him. Red eyes met grey and they held for a moment, Draco schooling his features as he tilted his head in a slight nod to Voldemort.

Slowly, Voldemort turned and made his way back to his stone seat. Seating himself upon the uncomfortable surface and gesturing for silence.

“Let this be a reminder to the rest of you. No act of defiance will be tolerated. No mercy will be given. Betray me, and your life is forfeit.”

He nodded once again and Draco felt the residual heat disappear from his arm. He exhaled slightly and turned away. It seems that Voldemort had made his point for the night. Trying not to look too eager to leave, he bowed slightly to Voldemort before turning.

A few of the Death Eaters had left already, leaving only a few in the cave. Some of them poking and gloating and McGowan’s body while others clustered together. Across the cave Draco caught met another set of grey eyes, mirroring his own. He stared at his father for a moment, feeling the hatred bubble up inside of him.

Lucius Malfoy was the shell of the man he used to be. Ever since his betrayal to the Dark Lord after the Hogwarts battle, he had been an outcast, trying to prove his worth again. If he had done what he did then today, Voldemort would have killed him without a second thought. Draco watched for a moment more before turning on the spot and disapparating

“God damn it, Granger.” He cursed as he landed back in his room and opened the secure chest to check the phone. There was still nothing on the small screen displayed to him. She hadn’t called.

***

“Hermione you can’t be serious?” Harry asked, gaping at her. “We can’t just tell Draco Malfoy where we are located.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and scooted closer to him on the couch, trying to ignore Ron’s scowl from his seat opposite them. “Harry, we voted to bring Malfoy in. You’re the only way he can get in. There isn’t much of a choice.”

“I’m not bringing him here Hermione. Not this place.” Harry said firmly, meeting her eyes with determination.

She sighed frustrated, having had all of this fall on her was beginning to take its tole. She was exhausted, still covered in grime from the battle and her hands still tinged red with the remnants of dried blood. “We don’t have a choice, Harry. This is the most controlled environment to bring him in. The Burrow is too active and the hospitals are there. My flat doesn’t have a fidelius, he would be able to give away the location in an instant. He wouldn’t be able to breathe a word about this place.”

Harry still looked like he was going to yell at her, but didn’t say anything.

At the end of her rope, Hermione stood, glancing back and forth between her best friends. “Fine. Why don’t I leave the both of you alone to come to grips with this plan. Because you will have to accept this, eventually.”

She could feel their eyes on her retreating back as she moved out of the room and back towards the entrance hall. Not bothering to say goodbye to the order members in the kitchen she left, seeking the refuge of her own space.

Her apartment was one that she found in the months after the Hogwarts battle. It was close to St. Mungos where she had completed her training, making it an easily accessible base for her to come back to. She looked around the space, it had been months since she had spent time here, choosing to stay in the safety of Grimmauld Place or the Burrow. Most of the time she was too occupied with their makeshift hospitals to leave.

The space was airy and bright. The large windows on the far wall had been the deciding factor when she was looking for a place. It was an old building, smaller than other apartments she had looked at. The exposed brick walls lent a sense of comfort, reminding her of the stones of Hogwarts. Her living room was cozy and functional, a large dark blue velvet couch sat on top of an ornate cream colored rug. There was a small brick fireplace in the small room, something she had insisted on for a connection to the rest of the wizarding world via floo.

She passed through the small kitchen on her way to her bedroom, grabbing a granola bar from the cupboard as she let her feet take her the rest of the way down the hallway. She stripped and after pulling one of Ron’s old jersey’s over her head, collapsed on her bed. Sleep found her immediately and she did not dream.

A sharp rapping sound woke her from sleep, and she opened her eyes to darkness. It took her a moment to orient herself to where she was, scanning her surroundings and falling back on her pillow as she saw her room.

Another rapping noise sounded and Hermione started, glancing over to the open door to find someone standing in the doorway, the light from the hall lit up behind them. She shifted as she made out Harry’s face.

“Sorry to wake you.” He said. She didn’t miss the grim tone in his voice. “But we figured you would want to know that we’ve decided.”

She nodded and sat on the edge of her bed. It would always come down to the three of them, she thought. Even though the order had voted and given it’s permission to bring Malfoy in, no decision regarding Grimmauld Place was ever done without Harry’s approval.

“Just let me shower and we can talk.” Hermione said, stifling a yawn as she grimaced at the overwhelming fatigue that plagued her body. She glanced at the clock. It had been almost nine hours since she had fallen asleep.

Shaking her head, she stood up and passed Harry on her way to the bathroom. The cold water hit her like a brick as she ducked her head under and she gasped. She needed to wake up, and this was a sure-fire way to do so. The vanilla scent from her shampoo calmed her as she massaged her scalp, sighing as she washed the grime from her body.

The water flowing over the white tiles below her was tinged pink as she scrubbed at her hands, trying to banish any trace of blood. Why she didn’t do this before going to sleep was beyond her. But it felt so good to be doing it now. She stayed for longer than she usually did, letting the now warm water wash over her and calm her nerves.

Since being in the field she hadn’t had more than a few minutes alone to think, to process everything that had happened during those short hours that now felt like an eternity ago. This was all madness. She had agreed to work with their enemy, the person who had tormented her and her friends since they were eleven years old. They didn’t have a plan. And she had convinced Harry to let Draco Malfoy in on one of the most important secrets he had ever been asked to keep.

Guiltily she turned off the shower and stepped out. Her reflection in the mirror above the sink caught her attention and she paused. There were bruises across her chest where Malfoy’s spell and arm had pressed against her skin. The dark tendrils of hair clung to her skin and sent streams of chilly water down her back. She looked pale, Hermione thought. Nothing like the girl who was so full of life at Hogwarts, flourishing in the wonderful world of magic around her.

Sighing she wrapped a towel around herself and padded down the hall back to her room to dress. The faint clinking coming from the kitchen as well as the television on in the living room told her that both Harry and Ron had arrived at her flat. Somehow the knowledge that she would have to face both of her best friends with their decision did not comfort her.

It was dark outside the tall windows when she stepped out in the living room, braiding her still damp hair across her shoulder as she went. She had dressed in comfortable clothes, black leggings with long sleeve grey top that loosely hugged her body. The only item that suggested any sort of life from the wearer was the pair of bright, patterned wool socks she had over her feet.

She sat in one of the small chairs and waited as Ron switched off the television. Both of her friends were sitting quite still on the couch, only Harry met her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” She said, sighing as she understood the position this put them all in. “I really am.”

At this Ron looked up and met her eyes. After a moment he grimaced and shook his head. “No, we’re sorry.” Harry nodded. “We were angry about you bringing Malfoy in but really didn’t think about the fact that if you didn’t, he would have handed you over to Voldemort.”

Now that she was out of Malfoy’s bedroom, Hermione thought that that particular threat was likely a bluff, but she couldn’t be too sure.

“And as much as we hate Malfoy,” Harry picked up for Ron. “Having you alive is much more important. And you’re right.”

She looked over in surprise at him. “We need this. The order has been failing and from every report we’ve heard, Voldemort is accumulating followers faster than we can keep up.” Harry’s voice was calm and grave.

Hermione sighed and leaned forward in the chair. “So, what do we do?”

Ron snorted and gave her a slight smile. “We were kind of hoping you had a plan for that.”

She rolled her eyes at the two and waited a moment before standing and walking into the kitchen. When she came back, they saw that she was holding something in her hands; a telephone.

“I think we need to make a call.” She said, looking up at both of them as they nodded to her. Then she dialed.

Hermione's apartment


	5. Chapter 5

The slight buzzing in his ears was driving him crazy. Draco ran a hand through his hair as he tried to finish reading the article in the Daily Prophet, attempting to jar his head to make the noise stop. When it didn’t, he tossed down the paper on the balcony floor and turned to go inside. Obviously, he had gotten too much sun today.

If anything, the buzzing was louder when he went inside. He was just about to leave the room when a sudden realization struck him. Cursing he sprinted back to his desk to the box, wrenching it open to find the small box Granger had given him, buzzing wildly against the wood.

Yanking it out he stared at it a moment, barely believing that she was keeping her word. Taking a deep breath he opened the phone like Granger had shown him. The buzzing immediately stopped and Draco waited, trying to figure out what he was supposed to do next.

“Hello?” A quiet voice sounded from the little box in his hand and he scoffed, of course muggle inventions would be lackluster in their performance.

“Malfoy? Are you there?” The voice came again.

“Yes.” He said back to the phone, feeling like an idiot as he held it in front of him.

“What?” The tiny voice asked. “Malfoy I can barely hear you. Put the phone to your ear.”

To his ear? He squinted his eyes at the small box before tentatively raising it to hold about an inch from his ear. “What is putting it to my ear going to change?” Draco said, his voice filled with annoyance as this nuisance.

“Well for one you can probably hear me better.” Granger’s voice was louder now, almost at a normal level. He almost flinched away from the volume and his annoyance increased as he realized his mistake.

“This thing is ridiculous.” He said coldly.

“That’s what we keep telling her.” Draco froze at the new voice coming over the phone. He recognized it immediately, having heard it for a consecutive six years at school. “Potter.” He said, not having any of his emotion seep into his voice

“Malfoy.” Harry said back to him, just as even and cool.

“Not even a minute into the call and he’s already sounding like an immature git.” Draco rolled his eyes at Weasley’s voice.

“Takes one to know one, Weasley.” Draco said, turning back to the balcony doors and shutting them. As an afterthought he can a muffliato charm over his entire room. He wasn’t taking any chances of being overheard.

“That’s enough.” Hermione said. “We don’t have time for all of this petty bullshit.” Draco smiled at her use of the word, normally thinking her too stuck up or such language.

“Look Malfoy, the order has given their permission to bring you in on this. Are you alone?”

“No, I’m walking around in front of the Dark Lord with a muggle box pressed to my head.”

The phone was silent for a moment as he imagined the three of them instantly regretting their decision to talk to him. He sighed. “Sorry, you’re right, no bullshit. Yes I’m alone.”

He could hear her breath come through the phone and he waited for her to say something. Finally, she spoke, “Alright. We are at my flat. You’ll have to come here first in order for Harry to get you into headquarters. Is Kildy able to bring you?”

“Kildy? Why would I need Kildy?”

“Because only people who have been here before are able to get into my place. I can’t come and get you because I’m not allowed to apparate within the Manor. Kildy has been here before, she can get you in.” Hermione said matter of factly. 

“Alright. Yes she can bring me.”

“Good, you can come over now. It’s just the three of us.”

“Alright.” He was just about to call for Kildy when he paused. “How do I turn this off?”

The amusement in her voice came through loud and clear and he furrowed his brows at it. “Just close it.”

Without replying he pulled the phone away from his ear and snapped it shut. Glaring at it he tossed it back in the wooden box and snapped the lid shut. With luck, he would never have to use it again. Making sure his wand was tucked securely in the pocket of his jeans, he called for the elf.

***

Hermione hung up the phone and looked at Ron and Harry nervously. Calling Malfoy had been the final step to enacting plans that they could no longer take back. Up until now she had the option of ignoring him, of pretending she never spoke to him and go on living her life as she had before. Now it was too late.

“Are we ready?” She asked the other two, watching as the both nodded back to her.

It was uncomfortable waiting, each of them seemed to be holding their breath as the clock on the wall ticked off each second. After a few minutes Ron piped up, “Maybe he chickened out?”

Before Hermione could reprimand him, a crack filled the apartment and made her jump. Each of them sprang to their feet, wands raised out in front of them. Draco Malfoy stood there in her living room, the small elf holding on to his hand. He wasn’t dressed in his Death Eater robes as he had been the last time Hermione had seen him, and for some reason it was hard to picture him in anything but them, especially not the dark jeans and deep blue button up shirt he was currently wearing.

“What a welcome.” Draco said under his breath and turned to the elf. “Thank you Kildy. That’ll be all.”

The elf glanced at the trio with her wide eyes before nodding and with a snap of her fingers, disappeared.

“So,” Draco said, eyeing the three of them. “Mind putting the wands down?”

Hermione blushed and immediately lowered her wand. Ron and Harry followed suit. After years of fighting for their lives against people who want to kill them, the instinct to defend themselves was immediate.

“Sorry.” She said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ears. His grey eyes slid over to her and he inclined his head slightly.

“Can I get you something to drink?” Hermione asked, feeling uncomfortable with his presence in her living room. It almost made her home feel unsafe, like something was going to pop out of the walls at any minute.

The corner of his mouth twitched at bit at her offer before setting back into the grim line. “No, thank you. This isn’t exactly a social visit.”

Hermione nodded, watching as he looked around her home. A sudden urge to cover everything in sight to keep his eyes off of it came over her. She had worked hard to make the apartment a sort of sanctuary for her, and in doing so had imbedded a piece of herself in it.

“Right then. Let’s get to it.” Harry spoke from behind her, his facial expression showed that he was obviously feeling the same sense of unease as she was. Ron’s face on the other hand was pure hatred, nothing else.

“For the record,” Ron said as Draco took another step into the living room. “I’m against this.”

“Ron.” Hermione reprimanded, knowing that this was going to become an issue.

Malfoy stopped walking and looked over at the redhead. “As expected, I suppose. You always were the thick headed ones out of the three.”

Ron’s lips pulled back and he raised his wand again, stepping towards Malfoy with nothing but murderous intent. Malfoy raised his own wand in response and shifted his stance.

“Enough!” Hermione yelled. Feeling like she was trying to hoard a bunch of children. She stepped between the two men and raised her hands up. “We’re here to work together, not kill each other.”

“Tell that to him.” Ron said with a sneer around Hermione at Malfoy.

“No, Ron, I’m telling it to both of you. Now if you can’t behave then you need to leave.” Hermione glared at him and was satisfied with the hurt look that passed across her friend’s face. She was getting sick of him acting like there was nothing more important than his own personal opinions of the world. He had acted both spoiled and selfish for the past few months, and she was done with it.

“I’m serious. This isn’t going to work unless we can all act like adults. It’s too dangerous for any personal feelings to get in the way.”

“Hermione’s right.” Harry said, stepping close to her. “I don’t like this either but it seems we don’t have much of an option for now. So,” he pulled out his wand and Draco eyed it warily. With emphasis Harry dropped the wood onto the coffee table. Hermione watched him and immediately followed suit, her vined wand clattered slightly as it bounced off of Harry’s.

The two of them looked between Ron and Malfoy, both still holding their own wands clutched tightly in their hands. With a final look of hatred Ron tossed his wand on to the table and turned around to flop onto the couch, crossing his arms across his chest as he did.

Hermione met Draco’s eyes and raised her brows. He nodded and stepped forward, adding his pale wand to the now complete pile.

“Okay. Shall we?” Hermione asked, gesturing to a vacant chair across from the couch. Draco followed her hand and sat down, surprised to find that the chair was comfortable even though it didn’t look it. Harry sat on the couch again leaving only Hermione standing. She turned to Draco. “We’re going to bring you to headquarters. But first we need to know that you can be trusted.”

Ron snorted and Hermione threw a cold look over her shoulder at him. “You don’t have to prove anything; we know that’s impossible. We just need to know your intentions.” She said, turning back to Draco.

He watched her for a moment before letting his gaze fall on Harry. “I want Voldemort dead. And as Potter here couldn’t accomplish that three years ago, I figured we’d give him another shot.”

Harry bristled a bit on the couch. “And why would you want him dead? He’s been keeping your comfortably employed for all this time. Why go back on your master Malfoy?”

Draco knew it would come to this. They didn’t trust him and they wanted him to provide a reason for them to. He closed his eyes briefly and tried to organize his thoughts. He had told himself that if Granger actually followed through with her end of the bargain then he was all in. He would do anything to accomplish the goal he had confessed to her.

“I don’t know what grand proclamation you’d like me to give.” He started, surprised at the anger in his voice. “I didn’t suddenly wake up and realize that what was happening was wrong. It’s always been wrong, but I never saw another way out of it. This wasn’t my dream life growing up you know. Just as I’m sure it was none of yours. We were all sucked in to this by actions far beyond our control.”

He looked pointedly at Harry with his last statement. “I’ve served the Dark Lord because that is what I was raised to do. And in doing so I have seen places and people I’ve loved be destroyed by this war. I’ve seen my own mother killed in front of my eyes for her betrayal in saving you. I’m done with it. I’ve been done with it. And finding Granger in that cave offered a way out.”

“So, trust me or not, I’m in. I can’t promise anything but my help.” He met each of their eyes individually, brown, green, blue. For a few moments he thought he saw a touch of a smile on Granger’s lips but didn’t look long enough to find out.

“Alright then.” Harry said, nodding in acknowledgement to Malfoy. “Let’s go then.”

He stood and picked up the wands on the coffee table, individually handing them back to their owners. “Malfoy,” he said, meeting the grey eyes. “We’d like to invite you to number 12 Grimmauld Place.”

It was dingier than he had imagined. He knew the old house once belonged to the Black family and had only imagined that it was as grand as the family itself had been. Instead, it was dark and cold feeling. Iit was increasingly difficult to imagine the order, the saving grace of the wizarding world, operating out of such a place. Draco stepped gingerly across the tattered rug in the long hallway, following closely behind Hermione and Ron as they made their way through a set of doors at the end of the hall.

The room they entered was considerably warmer, and more occupied. He immediately noticed several more redheads and wanted to shake his own head at the procreative powers of the Weasleys. Draco paused as his eyes moved to the head of the table and he found his old professor. The man looked even more raged than he had when he was a teacher at Hogwarts, the lines in his face etched as deep as the scars that were also present.

“Ah,” Lupin said at the entrance of their guest. “Mr. Malfoy, do come in.”

Draco could feel the tension in the room as he followed Granger in and took the offered seat next to her at the long table. It was odd feeling that the only person he felt comfortable around was the curly haired witch he used to torment in his youth. The thought was not comforting, and Draco kept his hands clasped in his lap. He tried to keep his features cool and collected but inside he felt like a hen in a fox den.

“Relax.” Granger said quietly to him as the rest of the order took their seats. “They’re not going to hurt you.”

He met her eyes and gave a short nod, wishing that they could just do this themselves without involving the entire bloody order.

Once everyone was seated, he could feel all eyes were on him, waiting for him to make the first move. Of course, they thought he came with a plan, why does everyone think he has a plan?

“I think I’d like to start out by thanking Mal—Draco, for being here.” Hermione said. Draco raised his eyebrows at her changing his name. It was the first time he had ever heard her speak his first name and it sounded odd coming from her lips. He was thankful that she had spoken first.

“Yes.” Lupin agreed. “Thank you, Mr. Malfoy. Even though not all of us may seem it, we appreciate your offer of help. And we hope that we are not reminisce in accepting it.”

“I’ve had the same thought.” Draco said, his voice even and calm.

“Hermione said you didn’t have a plan. I think we should probably start there, right?” This time it was Luna Lovegood who spoke up. Her ethereal voice was soothing to Draco’s ears and her long silvery blond hair was for some reason comforting.

“Right.” Harry said in agreement. “What can you tell us Malfoy?”

Draco hesitated, knowing that he was about to cross the ultimate line.. no, he had already done that, the moment he saved Hermione Granger instead of killing her on the spot. And with that in mind he began.

He spoke of the Dark Lord and his followers, trying to remember every detail that he could share with them. After what felt like hours, he finished speaking, feeling as empty as the store of secrets he now had. The people around him were silent, each absorbing the information he had just told them.

“700.” A voice spoke from down the table, breaking the silence.

“George.” The older red head said quietly.

“No, they have 700 people on their side. You all do remember how many we have right?” George said, looking around the table in exasperation. With a laugh he leaned back in his chair and smirked. “Definitely not 700. I’d say we give up now.”

“We may not have the numbers, but we’ve got the advantage now.” Lupin said, nodding in Draco’s direction. It felt odd to be in a place where people could freely speak their minds and he watched the group dynamic in fascination.

“We just need to find a way in. What is Voldemort lacking? Where is his weak spot?”

Draco snorted at Lupin’s words and saw several head turn towards him. “A weakness? The Dark Lord doesn’t have a weakness. He kills without a second thought, for fun even. To make an example to everyone else that he has power over all of us. That he holds our lives in a very thin balance.”

“Why just last night…” He paused, a thought coming to him. Hermione saw the expression on his face drop as he quickly turned his head to look at her.

“A healer.” He said quietly, almost to himself.

“A healer?” Ron asked, picking up on the muttered words. “What’s a healer have to do with anything? You just said Voldemort kills. No healer I know can bring back the dead, sorry Hermione.”

Hermione laughed slightly and raised her brows at Ron. “I’m still young.”

“He killed our healer last night.” Draco said, his severe tone breaking the momentary humor in the room. “He killed him in front of everyone and now-“ turning back to look at Hermione he tilted his head as he spoke, “we need another one.”

He watched as her face fell flat as she understood his implication. She wasn’t the only one as Mrs. Weasley gasped and stood from her seat. She placed her hands down on the table with force and shook her head.

“Absolutely not.” She said with certainty.

Draco sighed and leaned back in his seat. He should have known they weren’t going to be willing to involve the princess of the order.

“No, wait.” Hermione said quietly and Draco looked over at her in surprise.

“Hermione you cannot even consider this.” Mrs. Weasley went on. “They just killed their last healer, there is nothing that would protect you. And even healer status besides, you’re you. That’s enough to get you killed on site. No, I’m sorry but I am not losing another child.” She said, throwing her hands up and shaking her head.

“We’re going to lose everyone if we don’t do something.” Hermione’s voice rang out. It was strong and determined. “But,” she turned back to Draco. “She’s right, they would kill me on site, just like you told me they would.”

“Not if you weren’t you.” All of them turned back to George. His earlier annoyance seemed to have been forgotten and he was looking down at the table.

“They can detect Polyjuice potion if that’s what you’re thinking.” Draco said, looking over at the man.

“No, not Polyjuice. I’m a bit more advanced than that.” George said with a glare back in Draco’s direction.

“Then what?” Harry asked.

George’s face broke out into a wide grin, a site that was rare since the death of his twin four years prior. Hermione felt a lightness in her heart seeing it and felt immediately better. George stood and raised a finger to everyone, “Hold on a moment.” And then with a pop, he was gone.

After a moment’s silence, Lupin spoke. “While we are waiting for Mr. Weasley’s, what I’m sure will be, fascinating revelation, are there any other ideas?”

No one said anything. Draco had thought that the group would be overflowing with suggestions with all of the information he had given them. But he knew the prospects they were facing. The sheer number of Voldemort’s followers was intimidating in the least. Not to mention the most advanced protection spells around each of the Death Eater’s fortresses and the maniacal lack of self-preservation each of the robed figures had.

A sudden movement caught his attention and Draco wipped his head up to see everyone on the opposite side of the table jump up from their seats and raise their wands to point at him. No, not at him, behind him. Hermione let out a gasp as she turned around, raising her own wand in defense. When Draco turned to look he felt his heart stop beating. He didn’t even bother raising his wand, he was going to die either way, they all were.

Voldemort stood in the dining room, just as sallow and snake-like as he had been only hours earlier when Draco had seen him in the cave. But, there was something that Draco had never seen from the Dark Lord before, he was laughing. He watched in complete confusion as the figure started to laugh and clutched at his belly in joyous outbursts.

“Well,” Voldemort choked out between wheezes. “That answers that question.”

No one lowered their wand at this outburst but looks of confusion passed over each and every one of their faces.

“Aw guys,” Voldemort said, looking around the room with a grand smile across his face, displaying the spikes of his teeth. “Don’t you recognize me?”

After another moment of silence Voldemort moved. “Maybe this’ll help.” He said as twisted something in his hand. In an instant the image of Voldemort flickered and left instead was George, standing there as though he had just completed the ultimate prank.

“GEORGE WEASLEY!”

The red head flinched at his mother’s voice, then turned a sheepish grin on Harry and Ron.

“How did you do that?” Hermione asked, stepping forward and poking at him as though to make sure he was still real.

“Why my dear Hermione, with this.” He said simply and held up a small, gold ring. It was a thin band of shiny metal and upon closer examination, Hermione couldn’t see anything special about it. But when George slipped it back on his finger the figure of Voldemort once again stood in front of them. Hermione stepped back quickly in surprise. She stumbled in her haste to retreat and Draco immediately stuck out his hand to catch her, steadying her for a moment before realizing what he had done and dropped his arm.

The Voldemort figure laughed and slipped the ring off, leaving George once again in front of them. “Relax. It’s just a disillusionment charm. Well not _just_ a disillusionment charm. The most powerful one we’ve ever seen. Fred and I were working on them before…” he paused and swallowed hard, “before he died. I just picked them up again. It seems they work alright.” He said with a self-satisfied grin at all of those still holding their wands up in his direction.

“You said Polyjuice potion wouldn’t work.” George said turning back to Draco. “How about this?” He held up the ring and everyone’s eyes fell on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all of you reading along, I'd recommend bookmarking this if you enjoy it. Obviously I'm bored out of my mind and am spending my days writing. I promise you, more updates are coming your way very soon!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you it would be a quick update! I'm way more excited for this story than I thought I would be and the ideas keep cropping up. Is this pace good for everyone? I may not be able to update every single day but will likely keep up the quick turn around. Or would people rather I slowed it down, drug out the suspense more?  
> More pictures at the end for visual inspiration!

“How does it work?” Hermione asked, turning the gold ring over in her fingers. She didn’t put it on. One Voldemort in the world was plenty.

George shrugged, “On accident really. Fred and I had been messing around with disillusionment spells and then he got the idea of trying to incorporate it with polyjuice potion. Never got around to actually implementing it until a few months ago. I can’t exactly explain _how_ it works, but we know what they do.” His usual pride in his work was diminished talking about Fred’s involvement in the project.

“Is it a spell?” Draco asked, trying to avoid looking too curious about the object in Granger’s hands.

George glanced up at him warily before shrugging. “Potion and a spell. The base is more like polyjuice but then without finishing it fully, spell work takes over. Forgive me if I don’t reveal my secrets.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and handed back the gold circle which George pocketed.

“No,” the redhead began. “It wont last for longer than eight hours without needed to be re-magicked.”

Hermione nodded. “And how do you choose who you look like? Obviously not hair.” She said with a smirk, thinking of George’s performance as Voldemort.

“No, not hair. It’s built into the process with the user’s imagination.”

“And you imagined Voldemort?” Draco asked, eying the red head.

George glanced over him and eyed him before shrugging. “Fred’s idea. Thought we’d get a right laugh.” He chuckled to himself and looked down. “Guess he was right.”

Hermione reached out and gripped his hand. George looked up at her and squeezed her hand back with an appreciative smile. Draco watched the interaction with curiosity. Last he heard Granger was dating the younger Weasley brother, but maybe things had changed.

“And you could make one for me? That could be replenished as needed?” Hermione asked, turning back to the issue at hand.

Before George could speak, Harry interrupted. “No. Hermione you’re not going any where near that place. We’re going to find a better solution.”

And he was right, Draco thought. He knew that no one would let anyone go into the snake’s den. Unless of course it was Potter, who seemed to be the martyr for the order. He expected each of them to bow down to Harry’s word and sit back down at the table. When no one moved, Draco looked around. He immediately noticed the tension between Potter and Granger.

“What other suggestions do you have Harry?” Hermione asked, raising her brows at her friend. “Or that anyone has had?”

“We don’t even have a fifth of their numbers. And every time there’s another fight we lose more. In case you’ve forgotten I can give you a private tour of the hospital.” Draco was surprised at the malice in her voice but saw that it had the desired effect on Potter.

Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “You’re not going in there.”

“She wouldn’t be alone.” Draco spoke up, seeing that things were escalating between the two. “Healers are rarely required to be present during summons. Mainly during the battles, and after.”

“Then get Zabini to do it.” Ron said, finally joining in on the discussion. “He’s a healer.”

“Blaise is with you?” Draco asked in surprise. He hadn’t seen or heard from his Hogwart’s friend since the Hogwart’s battle, thinking that he had gone into hiding with his parents. To hear that he was not only alive and well, but working with the order was almost the biggest surprise of the day.

Hermione nodded at him. “Yes. But Blaise doesn’t have his full training as a healer yet. He didn’t have the chance to finish before St. Mungos was shut down.”

Draco thought of the wizard hospital that had once stood concealed in the heart of muggle London. Voldemort’s followers had raided the place not even a year ago, killing most of the patient’s as well as it’s staff. Draco was glad that he had been out of the country during the attack, the resulting carnage was something he didn’t think he could have gotten through. As a result, the population of wizarding healers was decimated after the attack, leaving only a small few to look after the dwindling population.

Without full certification, a healer was bound not to practice the more advanced spells. The knowledge was limited to those who had undergone the vigorous and, from what Draco had heard, dangerous training. It was one of the hardest feats in the wizarding world and he felt a small flicker of respect for Granger in her achievement.

“He works well enough on our people.” Ron said, not quite understanding. “He could do the same for theirs. Plus, he’s got the background.”

Hermione huffed. Blaise Zabini had become a good friend of hers as they had worked side by side for the past two years to keep people alive. You develop a special kind of connect with a person when you are working furiously to keep someone alive.

“It’s not the same as passing a final, Ron. There is so much that Blaise doesn’t know yet. And, if I assume correctly,” she eyed Draco. “Voldemort won’t settle for anything but the best.”

She was right, Draco thought. Voldemort had a keep sense about a wizard’s skill. Maybe it was the snake in him, but he seemed to be able to detect a person’s magical ability through interacting with them. If Draco brought in anyone but a true healer, Voldemort would know. He said as much and felt several pairs of eyes turn on him with a glare. Obviously, they were not looking for the truth in regard to this situation.

“So, what would this entail. I mean, what would I have to do?” Hermione asked, ignoring the others as she focused on Draco. She thought momentarily that she should be more fearful of the aspect of going undercover in the deadliest place for her, but she wasn’t. It had been a long time since she truly felt useful to the order.

Draco met her eyes, understanding at once how she felt. He had been feeling the same way since he stepped foot in her apartment. It wasn’t fear he felt. For the first time in, well forever, he felt a semblance of hope.

“Well to begin with, you’d need to prove yourself.” Hermione raised her eyebrows and Draco continued. “I don’t know how. It’s different for everyone. Mainly it’s to make sure that you’d be loyal, that your skill are good enough. Shouldn’t be an issue in this case.”

Hermione smirked at comment, not even sure that he had known he had just complimented her. They had been more than just social enemies in school, but also academic ones. If she was top in the class, he was right behind her. It had frustrated him to no end and only heightened his resentment of the witch. But not, he supposed it was a good thing that she was so bloody brilliant.

“And afterwards you would be his. Come when your summoned. Do his every wish and bidding. It’s as simple as that.”

It didn’t sound simple, Hermione thought and knew that it wasn’t. There was no way that Voldemort could control an entire army of people without some element of fear always coursing through their midst. From the rumors they had all heard, Voldemort liked to keep his control through the element of surprise. Each month killing off an unsuspecting follower just because he could. And in doing so, he showed the rest of his followers how under his control they all were. They all worked a million times as harder to do their work for the Dark Lord, hoping that in doing so his gaze would pass over them during the next selection. It never worked.

“Alright.” Hermione said. “Doesn’t sound too hard. I’ll go when summoned and then be back before breakfast. Easy.”

“No.” Draco said fiercely. “You can’t be coming back here all of the time. The Dark Lord is a master legilimen and you never know when he’ll be using it on you. The most recent memories are always the easiest to read, and the hardest to block out. I’m not taking the chance that you could let any of this world slip through.”

“Then it just wont work.” Mrs. Weasley spoke up, reminding Draco that there were other people in the room. “This is her home. She’s got no where else to go.”

A murmur of agreement went up around the table, people clutching onto this fact as though it would be the deciding factor.

“She could stay at the Manor.” Draco said, a bit annoyed at anyone’s willingness to at least try. He knew that this was the best plan they could have. The battles and fighting strategy was failing them, they needed to take Voldemort down from the inside.

“Well that’s never going to happen.” Ron scoffed, finding the suggestion itself amusing.

“Why not?” Hermione asked. “It’s enormous. I’m sure there is some empty room I can hide away in while I’m not needed.” Her gaze turned to Draco for confirmation and he nodded.

As easy as the suggestion had come from his lips, he was regretting it. The thought of having Granger wandering freely around his home was terrifying. The Manor was his sanctuary, the place where he escaped from the things he saw in Voldemort’s service. She was right though, the Manor was huge. They wouldn’t have to interact at all. It had only been him and Kildy for the past few years, his father had chosen to live closer under the Dark Lord’s leadership. Draco shuddered at the thought of the network of underground rooms snaking off of the main cave that housed a large number of Death Eaters.

“So, we have the how, and the where.” Hermione said, feeling the apprehension in her grow slightly as things started to fall into place. “What else?”

The other order members looked among themselves. Draco hadn’t expected a plan to come together this easily, this quickly.

“How are you supposed to get information out if you aren’t allowed to come back here?” Ginny asked. She had been quiet so far but saw the energy that had taken over her friend and knew that if she were in her place, she wouldn’t want anyone speaking out against her.

Hermione furrowed her brows at this. The same thoughts came to her as they had when figuring out how to contact Malfoy after their initial meeting. Only this time she didn’t think the cell phone would be a good idea. No one here had one and installing a land line in the ancient house would be a nightmare.

“What about the D.A. coins?” Neville spoke up, fingering his own pocket where the small gold coin rested. It had been his talisman over the past few years, never going anywhere without the reminder of where they had all started.

“That’s brilliant.” Hermione said, shooting a grin at Neville. “It’s such simple magic, everyone could have one.”

“And what exactly are you supposed to be doing when you’re there?” Ron asked. “Besides healing you-know-who’s followers? Keeping scum alive.”

Hermione didn’t reward him with any attention, turning instead to Lupin at the head of the table. She was having the same question herself. Getting in seemed to be taken care of, but what exactly was the point of all this.

“Looking for information.” Lupin said simply, lifting his hands in resignation. “Learn everything and anything you can that could help us defeat him. But you aren’t to make a move by yourself. Mr. Malfoy has already informed us that that course of action is futile.”

Hermione nodded, the final pieces falling into place.

“You can’t be serious.” Everyone turned to look their head to look at Harry who had spoken with an intense anger, Draco was surprised that he wasn’t holding up his wand.

“You can’t do this Hermione. It’s mental.” Harry continued, coming around the table to stand in front of Hermione. He was taller than her and his shaggy black hair fell across his eyes as he looked down at her.

“And you’ve never done anything mental, Harry Potter.” Hermione said defensively. “Don’t forget that we have been friends for quite some time now. I know more about your adventures than most do. You’ve always done your part, never thinking if it was at risk to yourself or not. You have to let us do the same.”

“It’s not the same.” Harry said, gritting his teeth slightly.

“Why? Because you’re the chosen one?” Hermione said, smirking slightly up at him. “That ended that night Harry. You know that. Now you’re just as insignificant as the rest of us.”

This had Ron chuckling, enjoying hearing Hermione put Harry in his place. For years the three of them had understood that Harry was the key to all of this. And he likely still was, but at least he didn’t hold that specific part of someone else that made him truly different. The horcrux had been killed that night by Voldemort himself, allowing Harry to live and the order to escape.

“Well we should vote.” Harry said, looking around to the others for support. He knew without question that the majority of them would be against this, each one caring about Hermione enough to want to keep her safe.

“No, Harry.” Lupin said, firmly but quieter than he had been earlier. “This is up to Hermione. It’s her risk.”

Harry looked with an open mouth at the man, not believing his ears. For years every time there was a choice to be made, Lupin had resolved it with a vote, saying that as a democracy they ensured that everyone had a say. And now, when it really mattered, he was taking that option away.

Everyone turned to look at Hermione. She was still standing next to George and Malfoy. The sudden focus of attention on her made her want to squirm. Instead, she stood up a bright straighter and looked from Malfoy to Ron, finally resting her gaze on Harry.

“I’m doing this.” She said with absolute finality. The silence hung in the air around them after her words and she saw Mrs. Weasley raise a hand to her mouth as tears filled the blue eyes.

Draco watched her; saw the ferocity of the lioness she was hovering under the surface. Her dried hair now hung in curls over her shoulders and the wildness of it made her look even more determined. Her cheeks were pink, and she looked more alive than any of them had seen her look in a long time.

“Then, Hermione, Mr. Malfoy.” Lupin said, breaking the silence around them. “I suggest you two start figuring things out.”

***

They decided to take three days. Three days for Draco to plant the idea of finding a new healer in Voldemort’s mind. Three days for Hermione to make her final preparations within the order before she left. It felt like she was saying goodbye to her friends. Malfoy had told her that she could come back if she wanted, it just couldn’t be as frequent as she would like. Hermione tried to remind Harry and Ron of that fact every chance she got but they seemed determined to ignore her, acting as though she were going into the snake pit and never coming back out.

Hermione had spoken to Zabini at the Burrow’s Hospital and told him everything that she could in order to help him best care for the order while she was gone. She hated having made light of his healing skill in the discussion at Grimmauld Place. Blaise was truly a gifted healer and with his final training, she knew that he would be great.

But he wasn’t here yet, and she knew that it had to be her to go. Voldemort would know the difference between their skill levels immediately if what Malfoy had said about his keen sense was true. Either way, she left all of her healing books at his disposal and wished him good luck before she left, reminding him that he could use the Galleons to get ahold of her if he ever needed anything.

Harry and Ron were waiting for her at her apartment when she finally got around to going there to pack. They helped her sort through her things, putting everything that could be valuable or incriminating into a package for her vault at Gringotts. She smiled as she picked up the book that Dumbledore had given her what felt like a lifetime ago. It was odd, she felt the same sense of hope now that she had then, as though they were finally moving forward again. At least this time she wouldn’t have to camp, she thought happily.

In her bedroom she tossed all of her clothes into her trusty beaded bag, yelling at Ron down the hall who was trying to figure out why the hell she needed so many books. Once her closet was empty and the bag was filled to the brim, something she never had thought possible, Hermione joined them again in the living room.

The two men looked up from their work as she came into the room again and she smiled at them. There was still an hour left before Malfoy said he would arrive to bring her back with him. Hermione knew that neither Harry or Ron were completely alright with her choice, nor did they trust Malfoy anymore. Hermione wasn’t entirely sure if she trusted Malfoy.

She didn’t need to trust him, Hermione reminded herself, he just needed to make sure she didn’t die.

The three friends sat down in the living room together, the silence between them so unfamiliar that it made Hermione want to yell at them.

“Well,” Ron broke the silence finally. “No offense but I would give anything to see you cooped up somewhere for more than a few days.”

Hermione stared at him for a moment before laughing, Harry shook his head and chuckled to himself. He couldn’t even picture Hermione not actively involved in one project or another. Instead being forced to sit around Malfoy’s Manor, waiting to be summoned by Voldemort.

“It’ll be like a vacation.” Harry said, tilting his head at her as the smile grew larger on his face.

“You know just for that I’m going to enjoy myself.” She said in retort. “Having a grand old time lazing about, eating lovely manorish meals.”

Ron rolled his eyes and grinned. After the tension was broken they fell back into easy conversation, and Hermione felt thankful for these moments between them.

They talked about everything, memories of their childhood adventures, of everything that had happened in the past four years. Joked about Ron leaving them on their hunt for the horcruxes, about the little ball of light that had mysteriously lead him back to them.

They talked until a crack sounded throughout the apartment, causing each of them to whip their heads around to stare at the newcomer.

Draco Malfoy looked just as put together as usual, a dark grey jacket fitted his shoulders perfectly as he adjusted the cuff on one of the sleeves. Hermione wondered the extents that he had gone through to convince Voldemort of their need for a healer but figured she would have plenty of time to ask them later.

Malfoy looked between the three, his expression as neutral as ever. “Ready?” He asked casually, settling his gaze back on Hermione.

She took a deep breath before nodding. After hugging both Harry and Ron goodbye she crossed the room with her beaded bag to stand besides Malfoy. As excited as she had been for this opportunity, now that she was here, she was nervous.

Malfoy offered his arm to her and she tentatively took it, placing her small hand in the crook of his elbow.

“Malfoy.” Harry spoke up, just before Draco turned on his heel to leave. The grey eyes met green. “You’d better keep her safe.”

Draco gave a slight nod before turning on his heel, feeling himself and Hermione being pulled into the spinning vortex of apparition, leaving the warm, comfortable apartment behind them.

Instead of his bedroom like she had landed in last time, Hermione was surprised to find them standing in a large hall. There was a long table down the middle of it with a giant marble fireplace on the other end. Large windows lined the room, each draped with expanses of green velvet curtains that ran from ceiling to floor. The floor itself was made up of a wood so dark it could have been black.

“Cozy.” Hermione said, taking a step away from Malfoy. Now that she was alone with him and it was just the two of them, the awkwardness crept back in. It was one thing to spend time together while planning, but now, they just had to wait.

She looked around the room and decided that it must have been some time since anyone spent any time in this room. Looking back over to Malfoy she found him watching her, an impassive expression on his face.

“Come. I’ll give you a tour.” He said and turned away from her, taking long strides towards the wide double doors of the room.

Hermione followed him, jogging slightly to catch up. On the main floor they passed through a library, Hermione’s eyes growing wide at the large expanse of books lining the walls. The immediately let go of her earlier concerns of getting bored. She could spend the rest of her life within this room and still not finish each book.

A quick stop in the kitchen showed that this was Kildy’s domain. The small elf bobbed neatly when Draco and Hermione entered the room. It was stark white, not a sense of color in the place other than the green of the grass and trees Hermione could see out the skinny windows.

Malfoy had informed her the day before that he had instructed Kildy to assist her with anything that she may need. Hermione didn’t feel comfortable commanding the elf but was grateful for Malfoy’s thinking of her. She knew this wouldn’t be easy for him, having a stranger in his house underfoot. But he had been the one that offered, Hermione told herself as they left the kitchen.

They passed through a study, lounge, a room that looked like Malfoy’s office. On their way towards the grand staircase that led the way upstairs, they passed a closed set of double doors. By this time in the tour, Hermione had been starting to feel a bit more comfortable in Malfoy’s presence.

“What’s in there?” Hermione asked, pausing to indicate the closed doors.

Draco didn’t need to look to see what she was asking about. It had been the only room that was closed off on the main floor. Looking over to her he grimaced. Part of him had hoped that she wouldn’t notice.

“I didn’t think that the room would be appropriate to be open while you are here.” He said, his voice not giving anything about his thoughts away.

“What? Why not? Storing dead bodies in there Malfoy?” Her tone was joking but when she saw that his expression was hard, she stopped talking.

Looking over at the door she tried to think of what room he could possibly have that he would have closed off because of her. What could the room possibly hold that he thought would have been inappropriate for her to see.

“Oh-“ Hermione said, finally understanding. Now that she understood, she was immediately grateful for his thoughtfulness. “Oh.” A chill passed over her as her gaze fell on the closed doors again.

Draco watched her facial expression as her eyes traveled over the dark wood doors. When he knew she was coming to stay here, he had wandered the house, making sure there wasn’t anything left out that was too sensitive about his family. He had passed by this room multiple times without a second thought. It was right before he had gone to get here that the thought finally occurred to him.

“Thank you.” Hermione said at last, turning back to Draco with a nod.

He inclined his head back to her and turned to ascend the stairs, not looking back to see if she was following. At the top of the stairs he gestured to a room off to the right.

“That’s my bedroom. If you ever need me just knock, same with my office.”

She nodded. “What kind of work do you do?” Curiosity had overwhelmed her as she followed him throughout the house, each new room came with a hundred questions that she wanted to ask. In his office she had seen papers and books scattered across the big wooden desk. It amused her to think of the cold and collected Draco Malfoy being the source behind such a mess.

“Just logistics for the Dark Lord.” Draco said, not offering any further explanation as he continued down the long, dark hallway.

They passed four other rooms before Draco stopped in front of a single, closed door. “And this,” He said, pushing on the wood to open it. “Will be your room.”

He stepped aside for her to pass through and her eyes widened at the site in front of her. It was beautiful, and grand, and everything she would expect from the rich surrounding of the Malfoy Manor. While the rest of the house was dark and cold, this room was rich and light.

The intricate pattern of the wallpaper and the expansive rug on the floor had levels of blue throughout them. The large canopied bed was similar to the one she remembered in Malfoys own room but the drapery was cream and silver rather than the dark green. There were elegant paintings on the walls and the furniture was definitely more feminine than the rest in the house.

There was a small marble fireplace at the end of the room and Hermione ran a finger across the smooth mantle, looking up at the landscape picture that stood atop it. There were large expansive windows lining a wall and Hermione crossed to them, looking down at the front lawn of the manor. She could see the hedges in the distance and the large, black, wrought iron gate that bared the entrance.

“This is beautiful.” Hermione said, turning back to the door where Malfoy was still leaning against the wood. “Really it is.”

Draco nodded, looking around the familiar room himself.

“I don’t mean to be rude, but—“She trailed off, glancing once again around the lightness of the place.

“It was supposed to be my sisters.” Draco said, understanding the implication of her statement. The entire room felt as though it belonged in a different house. It was a place he never entered, finding himself more comfortable in the darker familiar surrounding of the house outside the room. But, after seeing Hermione’s apartment, he figured that she would feel the least uneasy here.

“You’re sister?” Hermione asked, her brows raised at him. Not once had she ever heard that Malfoy had a sister.

“My mother always wanted another child. Convinced that the next one would be a girl, she had this room set up in preparation.” His face went blank talking about his mother, something that Hermione was immediately curious about. “Never happened though. It was always just me in the house.”

She watched him for a moment before nodding, seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything more on the topic.

“Well it’s beautiful. Thanks, I really do appreciate your offer of letting me stay here.” She tried to smile at him but found that his cold outward demeaner still made her feel awkward.

He stared at her a moment before nodding and turning to leave. “I’ll let you get settled in. We should talk later in preparation for tomorrow.”

Hermione barely was able to nod in agreement before he turned and left, leaving the doorway empty. Sighing, she closed her eyes for a moment and let herself relax. This was going to be a long, long period of isolation if he kept acting like that, Hermione thought briefly before pushing her annoyance aside.

The bedding was silky under her fingertips as she ran them over the light, cream colored bedspread. She suddenly felt tired, more tired than she had felt in a long time. Rubbing her eyes briefly she vowed to see if the kitchen stocked coffee before starting to pull items out of her beaded bag. There was a large closet just off the room that held an assortment of garments already. She assumed they must have been put there by his mother for the presumed sister.

Finding an empty shelf she started to put her clothing away, her T-shirts and jeans looking ridiculous next to the fine fabrics hanging around her. There was an en suite bathroom as well and Hermione felt giddy at the huge, blue tiled shower that stood at the far end of the bathroom. Several showerheads stuck out from the ceiling and she could only imagine the bliss of standing under them after a long day.

Back in the main room she placed her small stack of books on the bedside table before sitting down on the edge of the bed. The light outside was fading and it only served to remind her of how little time they had before she was supposed to be summoned tomorrow. Malfoy hadn’t given her much detail about what she was supposed to expect, but she supposed that was coming.

Closing the door behind her, she made her way back out into the hallway and down the grand staircase. Finding her way back to the kitchen was easy as she followed the tantalizing scents down a half flight of stairs.

Kildy was flitting about the stark space when Hermione entered. There was no music, no apparent enjoyment in the work as Hermione would have preferred in her own kitchen. But the elf was efficient, checking pots and pans that simmered on the large cast iron stove.

As she entered, Hermione cleared her throat loudly, hoping not to surprise the elf. It didn’t work. Kildy jumped at the noise and spun around to stare at Hermione with her big blue eyes, a wooden spoon held securely in her hands.

“Sorry.” Hermione said, feeling guilty at frightening the elf. “I was just looking for Malfoy.”

Kildy’s grasp on the spoon loosened as she looked over at Hermione. “Master is in the dining room. Dinner will be served in short time. Master wanted Miss to join him when she had come down.”

Hermione smiled at the elf. “Thank you. And you can call me Hermione if you want. Miss seems a bit informal.”

Kildy didn’t nod. “Thank you, Miss.”

Hermione chuckled as she turned to leave. House elves were not if not persistent in their ways and she knew it would take a lot more than a simple request for Kildy to call her anything but what was formal. She found Malfoy sitting in the dining room, a large book spread out in front of him on the dark table. He looked up when she entered and watched as she made her way down the expansive table to take a seat across from him.

“What are you reading?” Hermione asked, glancing down at the book.

Instead of answering, Malfoy tilted the book up off of the table so she could see the cover. _The Alchemist_ was etched in gold against the dark blue cover. She recognized it as an advanced potions book and glanced up at Malfoy. It was a book that would have gotten her teased immensely by Ron and Harry had they found her casually reading it.

“Is Voldemort looking for gold or something?” Hermione asked, trying to lighten the mood in the room.

“Alchemy isn’t just about turning objects into gold you know,” Draco said, meeting her eyes. “Its much more intricate.”

She gave a slight smile. “Malfoy it was a joke. I understand what alchemy is and what its uses are.”

He blinked at her before shutting the book with a sigh. “I suppose we should go over what to expect tomorrow.”

Nodding eagerly, Hermione leaned forward, resting her forearms against the cold wood. “What time will it be?”

“I don’t know. Sometime in the evening. The Dark Lord isn’t one for daytime frolicking.” Draco said, summoning a paper and quill from his office so he could make notes for her. She needed to know everything that he knew. He wasn’t about to risk his life because of any ignorance on her end.

“We’ll be summoned. I’ve already told him I’ve found a replacement healer. And you’ve programmed the rings already?” He asked, looking up at her.

She nodded. George had been incredibly helpful when assisting her with the development of the identify she would be operating under. Hermione had found inspiration in a childhood favorite book, one that her mother used to read to her. It was a simple character, not even worth remembering in the context of the story itself. But it rang true with what Hermione felt they were doing. It had taken some time to mix enough of the key potion to be able to last her for the expected time that she was here. George promised her that he would have more on hand if she ever ran out.

The two rings he had sent her with were thin bands of twisted gold, fitting over her right ring finger perfectly. They were currently sitting on her bedside table in a small metal box. The rings seemed to be the key to bringing both the potion and the charm together. George had explained how he had tried multiple other mediums for the disillusionment to cling on to, but nothing else worked.

“So he’ll summon us and you’ll be presented.” Draco continued.

“Presented?” Hermione asked, not liking the implication of the word.

“Yes. You need to understand that as a healer you’ll be part of the inner council for Voldemort. You’ll be expected to be present for strategy discussion, providing your input as to how the wounded will be cared for.”

This was new information for her and it made her fee even more nervous than she already felt. Being a bystander in the workings of the Death Eaters was one thing, but being part of the inner workings made her feel slightly nauseous.

“You mentioned that I would be tested.” She prompted. This was the thing that had been worrying her the most. She didn’t exactly think that Voldemort would sit her down and present her with a typical school exam to test her skill.

Malfoy nodded and glanced over at her. “Yes. Though I don’t know how. Just be prepared for anything. And be on your guard. I told you he was a master legilimen. He’ll invade your mind without permission and sift through your thoughts like they were sand.”

Hermione swallowed. She had never been good at occlumency. She had studied it with Harry and Ron after the Hogwarts battle but have never seemed to get the knack of it. It was frustrating to no end and she had to admit that she felt more than a little guilty about giving Harry such a hard time about not being able to block out Voldemort.

Draco saw her hesitations and paused. “Granger, this is important. Other than the ring this is about the only protection you’ll have from Voldemort finding out who you really are. Just,” He stopped, trying to think of the best way to word this. “Look, when I do it, I just picture a huge brick wall in my mind, and every memory that I don’t want him to see, I push behind the wall. It takes a lot of concentration to make sure that you don’t slip. Just remember not to panic. You panic, you think of things that you are trying to hide and give him a one-way ticket in.”

She felt like panicking now. Back at headquarters, this whole idea seemed like such a great opportunity, like an easy simple way for her to jump into Voldemort’s life, find his fatal flaw in a few days and then be back with Harry and Ron to kill him. Even as she thought about it she knew how naïve it was. She wasn’t stupid, nothing about this was going to be easy and it was probably going to take a decent amount of time. But she had signed on for this, actively volunteered. There wasn’t any turning back now.

Taking a deep breath, she met Malfoy’s eyes, hoping he could see the determination on her face. “Okay. What else?”

Hermione's room

Sort of the vibe that I'm picturing for Malfoy Manor


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long one coming at you! I'll apologize in advance for the ending ;)  
> More pictures at the end. I couldn't find one that I thought adequately represented Hermione's disguise so I will leave that up to your imagination. Think sleek, badass Audrey Hepburn. Enjoy!

They spoke for several hours. Draco was impressed by the questions she asked and how diligent she was, taking everything in stride as they went. Impressed, but not surprised. He could tell that she was nervous, the way she chewed on her bottom lip gave her away as she scratched out more notes on the fifth sheet of parchment she had taken from him.

He was nervous too. It was one thing to keep this own thoughts and actions schooled to perfection in front of the Dark Lord, but he felt increasingly apprehensive about brining a stranger into this. He liked control; control of his actions, control of his surroundings. Granger was something he couldn’t control. She was a variable he was throwing into the snake pit, a variable that was as unpredictable as the weather.

Draco didn’t trust her. He didn’t know her. He wanted to trust her, to believe that she would do everything in her power to keep her cool during the coming situations. But he also had grown up with her. He had seen what a stickler for the rules he was, minus the apparently exempt escapades she had with Potter and the Weasel. He didn’t trust her, but he wanted to.

“Malfoy?” Her voice cut through his thought and he blinked, brining his gaze back to hers. Her brown eyes searched his face and he school his features, wondering what she had seen in his momentary slip.

“Sorry. Right.” He looked down at the list he had made, making sure that he was able to tell her everything he knew she needed to know prior to facing Voldemort tomorrow. They had reached the bottom of the parchment and he glanced at the one item they had left to discuss. It was something he had scrawled at the last minute, the pessimistic side of him creeping through.

“Um.. this is the last thing.” He took a deep breath and fiddled with the quill between his fingers. He had been cool and collected all evening, drilling her with information and making sure that she knew exactly what she was doing.

She was waiting expectantly for him to continued, like she had been all night. Eager to learn, eager to play her part. And what if her part was too much?

“If something happens,” Draco started, meeting her eyes directly. “If something were to happen to you. What sort of arrangements have you made?”

He was blunt. It was better to be blunt, he thought. It would skip past all of the bullshit that came with discussing the hard things in life. She was straightforward with him, he should extend the same courtesy for her. He saw that she paled slightly, the color leaving her cheeks.

Sighing he set the quill down. “Granger. I’m not going to sit here and lie to you about what it’s going to be like. This isn’t the order. Someone gets in trouble there and I’m assuming you, what? Ground them?” Her eyes narrowed slightly at the insult, but he continued. “You get in trouble down there and you will die. Period. Voldemort doesn’t care about anything or anyone. You are expendable, easily replaced. Just ask McNamara.”

Her cheeks twitched as he imaged her jaw muscles clenching. “So, what would you like done if anything were to happen?”

“You mean if I die?” Hermione asked. She didn’t need to ask. She knew exactly what he meant. But she wanted to hear it from him mouth directly.

“Yes.” Draco said. “What if you die.”

She was silent for a moment, her deep brown eyes boring into his. It almost made him uncomfortable. If he hadn’t had years of experience dealing with the intrusiveness of Voldemort, he would have looked away. Instead, he held her gaze, waiting for her to process her thoughts. Finally, she let out a breath and leaned back in her chair, resigned.

He pushed a piece of empty parchment across the table to her. “You don’t have to tell me. I just thought you should think about it. Really think about it. Write it all down and put it in a safe place.”

She nodded and reached across the table for the paper, looking down at it like she expected words to magically appear. Draco sighed and rand a hand through his hair, noticing how incredibly late it was. Good, he thought, this would force her to sleep into the day and be more alert at night when they would be summoned.

“That’s everything I have.” He said, coolly meeting her eyes again. “I’m going to bed. I suggest you do the same and we’ll talk again tomorrow.”

She nodded again but didn’t move to get up when he did. It was a lot, Draco knew that. But he also knew that she was the brightest witch of their generation. She could handle it. She had to.

At the doorway he turned back to her, seeing that she was fingering the edges of the blank piece of parchment he had given to her. She looked peaceful sitting there at his dining room table and he tried not to think that it was the same table that Professor Burbage had been killed over those years ago. Tried not to think who had been in her seat that night.

Pushing the thought away he cleared his throat. She looked up at him, her face set in a mask of determination. “Just try and focus on why we are doing this.” Draco said at last, not feeling the slightest bit of comfort from his words.

After a moment she nodded. “Thank you.” He heard her say softly before he nodded and left the room, trying to remember why they were doing it himself.

***

She didn’t sleep until the sun started to rise the next morning. Passing out from sheer exhaustion rather than from want. For hours she lay in the large canopied bed, knowing it was the most comfortable thing she had ever lain on but sleep wouldn’t come. Finally, she slept.

A pounding on her door work her what felt like decades later. Her eyes were blurry from sleep as she lifted her head from the pillow at the noise. For a moment she forgot that she wasn’t in her own apartment, her own bed. But the ornate wallpaper that met her eye was enough to remind her.

With a glance outside the widow she saw that the sun was starting to dip below the horizon. Frantic at all of the time she had missed, she slid out of bed and all but raced to the door. Wrenching it open she found Malfoy on the other side. He raised his brows at her and Hermione felt momentarily embarrassed at her sleeping shorts and t-shirt that she was wearing, not to mention the state her hair must be in.

“Granger. I trust you slept well?” Malfoy asked, his demeanor transitioning smoothly back to the cool façade she was becoming accustomed to.

Hermione ran a hand through her hair, wincing at the tangles she encountered. “Um.. yes, thanks. What time is it?”

She felt both panicked and calm at the same moment. Fear for what was to come was breathtaking and she cursed herself for sleeping in. She had planned to go over and over the notes she had made last night during their discussion, like studying for an exam. It was an exam, she reminded herself. And instead of a grade at the end, her life would be her reward.

“It’s time to get started.” Malfoy said, nodding at her. “I’ve asked Kildy to help you get ready. Your dress is already hanging in the closet, the one in the plastic bag.”

Hermione blinked and furrowed her brow. “My dress? What are you talking about?”

Malfoy looked at her as if he were sizing her up. “For the meeting.”

“Why do I need a dress? That’s a bit of an inconvenient thing to wear isn’t it? I was thinking more along the line of pants.”

He tilted his head at her and a corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smile. “This isn’t that kind of meeting, Granger.”

Started to get annoyed at his tone and feeling more confused than ever, Hermione huffed. “So, will you please tell me what kind of meeting it then?”

Draco tried to school his features sensing her annoyance. “Inaugurating someone into the Dark Lord’s council isn’t your typical sit down and shake hands meeting. For lack of better words, it’s more of a gala. Voldemort is very eager to meet his new healer and wanted to welcome you to the family in style.”

Hermione balked, her eyes going wide and panic once again filling her throat. “You’ve got to be joking. I thought this was going to be a simple thing? Go in, say hello, take my test and leave? You never said anything about a bloody party.”

“Must have slipped my mind.”

The look she gave him was murderous and Draco momentarily felt bad for Potter and Weasley. Cutting the attitude he stopped smiling. “Look, I didn’t tell you because I knew it would freak you out even more. You’re good at adapting to things on the go otherwise you wouldn’t have been able to do half of the crazy things you’ve done. So… adapt.” He shrugged his shoulders at her.

Hermione watched his face for a moment before nodding. He was right. There was nothing else she could do to prepare for this, nothing at least that wouldn’t make her that much more nervous.

“Okay. How long do I have?” She asked, mentally thinking of everything she would need to accomplish.

Draco shrugged. “I’m not sure. He doesn’t exactly send an invite. You get summoned and you go.”

“I don’t need an exact time Malfoy,” Hermione said tartly, her annoyance returning full swing. “I just need to know what the chances are I’ll show up half dressed with sopping wet hair.”

A brief image of that picture flashed through his mind and he tried not to laugh. “You have time to get ready. Just,” he paused, giving her a slight smile. “Try not to dawdle.”

“Wait, Malfoy.” She spoke just as he started to leave. “How dressy is this?” Sighing she glanced down at the floor embarrassed. “Like I know this is probably the last thing on your mind but how should I be doing my hair and makeup?”

He raised his brows at her question.

“I know, sorry. I just… it’s just that you’ve done this before. You know the expectation of how people should look.”

“I know, sorry. Um..” He studied her for a moment, not really sure what to say. “I think the dress will explain it better than I can.” He turned away then, grinning once he was sure she couldn’t see his face.

She narrowed his eyes at her retreating back before turning back into her room, shutting the door a little more harshly than intended. The piece of parchment that sat on the desk caught her eye as she walked by. Pausing she glanced down at it, wishing that it was still blank as it had been when Malfoy had handed it to her the night before. She wasn’t ignorant. She knew the risk that she was taking with her life. But seeing the multitude of black lines that ran evenly and neatly across the paper made everything more real.

But she was ready.

Her shower was quick and she felt scrubbed raw when she stepped out. Wrapping a towel around her head and one around her body, she padded into the closet, running her fingers over the luxurious fabrics until she got to the end where the black garment bag hung. Briefly wondering how Malfoy had known what size to get her, she unzipped the bag and pulled it open. She stared for a moment, then wrenched the hanger off the rack with a curse.

Draco was in his office when he heard the cursing. Glancing up curiously he watched as the door flung open and Granger strode in. She had a towel wrapped humorously about her head like a turban and another tucked closely to her body. He could still make out drops of water on her skin. She was dragging the garment bag with her and he tried not to smile as she crossed the room to him.

“What the hell is this?” She asked, holding up the hanger.

“A dress.” Draco said simply.

Hermione swore again. “This isn’t a fucking dress, Malfoy. Its bloody lingerie.”

The black lacy material had caught her off guard when she had opened the garment bag in her closet. For a moment she thought that the silky material was just underthings and she had blushed intensely picturing Malfoy picking them out. But instead, it was a dress. Something he thought she would actually wear in his presence, not to mention Voldemort.

“It’s a dress. And to be honest, it’s quite modest compared to what other people wear down there. I didn’t want you to stand out too much.”

Hermione raised her brows and glanced back at the garment. This was modest?

“And what are you wearing?” She asked, turning back to him. If she had to wear this then he better be in a god damn speedo, she thought briefly.

Malfoy stood and gestured to his being. “This.” He said simply.

She followed his hand and took in the perfectly fitting black suit he was adorned in. At first it looked no different than the other outfits she had seen him in over the years, but she saw this this was a much higher quality suit than his every days outfits. It fit him like a glove and the black dress shirt underneath the jacket was unbuttoned slightly at the top.

He cleared his throat and she blinked, aware that she had been staring. Meeting his eyes again, she shook her head. “I’m not wearing this.”

“Then wear jeans and a T-shirt. I’m sure that’ll win you favor with the Dark Lord.” He said simply, taking his seat behind the desk again. “Look, I wouldn’t have chosen it if I didn’t think it would be appropriate. You are trusting me to know Voldemort and his surroundings.”

She bit the inside of her cheek to cut off the retort that bubbled up. She glared at him for a moment more before turning and stalking away, not giving him the satisfaction of a final word. She could all but feel Malfoy smirking at her as she left his office.

Back in her closet she summoned Kildy, knowing that the elf would be disappointed if she didn’t. Hermione was more than capable of getting ready herself but Malfoy had mentioned that the elf had offered her help.

A pop signaled Kiley’s arrival and Hermione smiled at her. “Let’s get to work.” Hermione said to the glee of the small elf.

In the end, Hermione was grateful for the help. She never would have been able to accomplish this much in such a short amount of time. The elf has spelled and magicked her hair this way and that, finally settling on a style that she deemed “Perfection.”

Her makeup was dark, darker than Hermione had ever worn it. The brown of her eyes appeared molten next to the black shadow that swept across her lids. The dark maroon/purple that adorned her lips gave her the impression that her lips were bleeding and she supposed the effect was fitting with how much she had been biting her lips over the past few days.

The dress itself wasn’t as bad as she originally thought it was going to be. It was lace on the top, and while it was see-through across the back and below her breasts, the actual cups of the dress were lined. She breathed a sigh of relief at this but noted the large amount of skin that the dress still left bare, pushing against her breast so that her cleavage was evident. She sighed and ran her hand over the soft slips of black silk that skimmed her hips and fell to the floor, slits up either side of the skirt allowed glimpses of both thighs as she turned to examine herself in the mirror. 

The makeup and hair didn’t both her, soon with the ring she wouldn’t look like herself and the facade only completed the transition. But her body… George had suggested only disguising her face and her hair, leaving the rest of her body the way it was. He said that changing too many things only made the user more awkward as they weren’t aware of their changing dimensions and felt awkward. Hermione remembered how much she had stumbled when disguised as both Bellatrix as well as Harry, and had agreed with George immediately.

Still, it was awkward knowing that so little of her was covered and she wouldn’t be able to hid behind the face that it wasn’t truly her. Taking a final look she left the closet and went to the nightstand, taking out the box that held the small gold rings safe. The thin chain that Malfoy had left with the dress matched the gold of the ring perfectly.

She didn’t put it on yet. Wanting to remain herself as long as she could. Knowing that the time was coming, Hermione left the room, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves as she descended the stairs to the next step.

Malfoy was still in his study and was standing by the fireplace when she entered the room. He glanced from the book he had been reading at her movement and Hermione smirked inwardly when he did a double take. She didn’t know what the desired effect of her appearance tonight was but it made her feel marginally better to know that however she did look, she looked good.

“Will I do?” She asked, keeping her tone even as she spread her arms out from her side.

He stared at her for a moment longer before meeting her eyes. “Yes. I believe you will.”

-

He hadn’t been expecting to see her dressed up like this, at least not the her that he recognized. He thought that she would have put the ring on immediately and was surprised to say the least to see her waltz in looking completely like herself. He had never thought Granger an unattractive girl, in fact, on more than one occasion he had found himself admiring her looks. But this… Seeing her like this was different than he ever would have imagined.

He felt the summoning before his arm started to burn. Grimacing he rolled up his sleeve and saw the faint green glow of the dark mark tattooed on his skin.

“It’s time.” He said, quickly turning to Hermione. “Put the ring on. Now.”

She heard the urgency in his voice and with shaking fingers slipped the gold band onto her right ring finger. Draco watched as Hermione Granger disappeared before him, replaced with a stranger’s face. He still saw the fear blatantly obvious on her face and suddenly felt very bad for her. She had no idea what she was walking into.

Surprising himself, he stepped forward and placed his hands on her upper arms. “It’s going to be alright. You can do this. You’re bloody Hermione Granger. You can do anything.”

Her brown eyes met his and she nodded, schooling the unfamiliar features into a mask. Draco felt the tug begin to pull at him and nodded back at her. “Remember, build the wall.”

He gripped her upper arms tighter as the final pull overtook him. In half a second they had arrived and the game had begun.

There were already people here he noted as he pulled up the wall in his mind and easily pushed every incriminating memory behind it. A quick glance down at Hermione’s face, or not her face, indicated that she was trying to do the same. He only hoped she was succeeded.

After a moment he noticed her pull back her shoulders and look up at him, the dark blue eyes of her disguise helped him fall into the ruise easily.

“Shall we?” He asked, extending his arm to her. She took it and rested her hand on top of his as they began to make their way to the front of the cave. He glanced from side to side as they moved, seeing that all eyes fell curiously on Hermione and him as they made their way towards Voldemort. As he had suspected, Hermione was quite modestly dressed compared to the other woman present. He saw at least four nipples on his way to the front and hoped Hermione would see how reasonable he was with his selection.

He could almost feel her heart racing as they finally made it to the front. Voldemort was sitting in his usual throne of stone, watching them approach. The sneer across the pale face would have been unnerving to anyone who hadn’t seen it a hundred times before and Draco felt bad for Hermione.

“Draco..” Voldemort hissed as they stopped in front of him.

Draco braced himself for the usual onslaught of invasion that usually came with facing the Dark Lord, but nothing came. He resisted the urge to glance down at Hermione to see if she had been the victim instead. Her arm was still relaxed against his, so he assumed she was still safe.

Bowing slightly, Draco met Voldemort’s eyes. “My Lord. Please allow me the honor of introducing healer Olivia Raneire.” He dropped Hermione’s arm and stepped away from her, extending an arm out in her direction.

Voldemort’s eyes fell to Hermione and Draco heard her sharp intake of breath. His heart sped up as she stared at the Dark Lord, not saying a word. He watched as she composed herself and took a small step forward and swept into a graceful curtsy. He exhaled slightly, suddenly feeling as this would work.

“My Lord. Forgive me, being here is… unimaginable.” Hermione said, her voice clear. She didn’t waver as she looked up at Voldemort, meeting his eyes directly.

“I can only imagine.” Voldemort hissed back to her. Slowly rising from his throne. “Forgive the intrusion.” He said almost gently before his eyes narrowed into slits.

Draco almost jumped in front of Hermione, knowing exactly what was coming. It was irrational, stupid even. Nothing was going to help her now except her. He saw her spine stiffen as the Dark Lord invaded her mind, picked through her thoughts like they were nothing. Her hands clenched into fists and Draco thought he saw a slight tremor pass through her body.

It lasted what felt like a lifetime, Draco and the other hundred people in the cave watching with bated breath as Hermione underwent the most intimate intrusion anyone would ever expose her to. He knew how it felt to have someone invade your thoughts, and Draco would have chosen the cruciatus curse over it any day.

Hermione finally let out a breath of relief and Draco stepped forward as she bent at the waste, her chest heaving. He didn’t touch her, knowing that it would feel terrible to her at this moment. Instead he looked up to Voldemort, praying that he didn’t see a wand raised at both him and Hermione. Feeling more anxious than he has ever felt before in his life, he met the red eyes. But saw no malice in them, well apart from the usual.

Voldemort inclined his head in their direction, the non-existent lips parting into a sneer. “Welcome, healer.”

Hermione took one last shuddering breath before standing upright, meeting the red eyes directly. “Thank you.” She said, her voice wavering only slightly which impressed Draco immensely. She was doing better than he ever imagined she would. In truth, he had fully expected to have been killed by this point in the game.

Voldemort spread his arms wide and settle back in his throne, letting his eyes wander the cave as the people around them started to release their attention from the scene in front of them. It was typical for these gatherings. There was always a display of force, a way for Voldemort to gain control over his followers. Then, the real fun began; socializing with Death Eaters.

Draco hated these gatherings and always left as soon as he felt he wouldn’t be missed any longer. The alcohol flowed freely, and people tended to get a bit… promiscuous, barely bothering to cover themselves in the shadows that lined the cave walls.

Seeing that the hard part was over, Draco tugged on Hermione’s arm, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “Let’s go.”

She nodded, tearing her eyes away from Voldemort with effort. The blue met his and he tried to give her a reassuring look but saw that it didn’t help. “Come on.” He said, pulling her slightly so that she followed him.

He stopped at the bar first, snagging them both glasses filled with a murky liquid. “What is it?” Hermione asked, eyeing the drink suspiciously.

“Just drink it.” Draco said, taking a long swig of his. She did and grimaced as the sour liquid hit her tongue. It wasn’t necessarily bad, just jarring to the system.

Several Death Eaters approached them, lower level, wanting to get an in on the new healer in hopes that it would elevate their status in due time. Hermione made small talk with them, answering only the bare minimum of questions as the two men prattled on and on about how having a healer was almost unnecessary given their unending success against the order lately.

She was doing well, Draco observed. It was odd to see her as a cold and collected individual. The disguise was the perfect choice he thought, looking at her from over the rim of his glass. Her hair was a jet black, strait as a board and had been pulled back into a sleek updo. The makeup exenterated her olive skin and the black shadow across her lids made the blue eyes appear deeper and more intense. The face she wore was more intense, sharper. She fit right in.

After a couple hours he could tell she was started to become more comfortable straying away from him as she was bombarded by the other Death Eaters. She easily picking her way through conversations that came at her. He noticed that she would look around the room occasionally, find him and then turn back to whatever she had been doing. It was going well. The first of what would become many encounters was almost over with.

He could tell things were winding down. The crowd was dwindling and he could hear provocative noises echoing quietly off of the cave walls. Not once in his time as a Death Eater had he ever stayed at these events this late, feeling uncomfortable with how to proceed. Slowly he made his way back through the crowd and slipped into the small group that was still crowding Hermione. There was a rosy flush to her cheeks as she spoke, her hand clenched around a glass only half full. He hoped she had had the wherewithal to not drink too much, he thought as he positioned himself at her elbow.

“So how did you meet Olivia, Malfoy?” A short, brown haired man across from them piped up. Draco blinked at the name in a momentary lapse of memory, but collected his thoughts immediately.

“At school, Yancor.” He offered shortly, hoping that he would have the opportunity to steer Hermione away from the group.

“At Hogwarts you mean?” The man continued, obviously intent on keeping them there. “Which house were you in my dear?”

“Ravenclaw.” Hermione answered evenly, taking another sip of her drink.

The man chortled and Draco suddenly wondered just how much _he_ had had to drink. “Good, good.” Yancor said. “It’s nice to know this healer has some brains about her. Brains and beauty.” The beady brown eyes skimmed Hermione’s body with appreciation and Draco narrowed his eyes as he watched the tip of a pink tongue slip out to wet the man’s lips. He wanted to curse him, right then and there, but Hermione beat him to it.

“You’re too kind.” She said, her voice sickly sweet with fake appreciation. “Excuse me, I do believe I need to speak to Mr. Malfoy for a moment.”

He took her by the elbow and guided her to the edge of the group, turning so that she was facing away from the indecent acts happening in the background of the cave.

“Doing alright?” he asked casually, scanning her face.

She nodded and rubbed at her temples. “Yes. My head is killing me though. Between earlier and this-“ she held up the drink “-I’m going to need every pain killer you’ve got when we are done.”

He nodded with a small twitch of his lips. “Not much longer. One more round and I think we will be safe to leave for the night.”

She nodded again and sighed, steeling herself for the onslaught of people as soon as they stepped back into the mess of people. It was only seconds later when a sharp hiss fell over the crowd, silencing everyone as flickers of fear passed through the group. Each and everyone of them turned and stepped back as Voldemort stood up from his seat, scanning over them with his red eyes.

“Healer.” The words were almost a hiss as they left the wizard’s lips. The red eyes gleamed as they focused on Hermione as she stepped out and away from Draco, holding her back strait as she looked up at the Dark Lord.

“It is time to test your skills, to ensure that your training has been adequate enough to serve me and my ranks.” Draco almost thought he saw the hint of a smile across the Dark Lord’s lips.

“Yes, my Lord.” Hermione said, taking another step forward as she courageously presented herself to him. “I’ll do anything.”

This time a smile truly did form on Voldemort’s face and Draco almost winced at the grotesqueness of it. The silvery-white points of teeth were displayed against the red of his gums and tongue, eyes narrowing even further into slits.

“Your test…” Voldemort continued, letting his eyes slide up and down Hermione. “Is simple.”

Suddenly, Draco felt white hot pain rip around him, taking his breath away as he gasped in shock. It was the worst thing he had ever felt, like his skin was being peeled off with a hot poker. His strangled cry alerted everyone in the room, including Hermione who whipped around at the noise. He could barely think straight as pure pain ripped through him, blinding his vision and making him shake. He felt his mouth fill with some form of liquid as he sputtered and fell to the ground, twitching against the cold rock and searing pain. He was dying. There was absolutely no doubt in his mind that he was going to die, right here, right now.

“Save him.” A slithering voice above him commanded, washing over him as another onslaught of pain made him cry out. Then everything was black.

Hermione's dress. and Draco (thanks to Tom Felton for taking some LOVELY photos!)


	8. Chapter 8

“Healer.” The hissing word sent a shiver down her spine when she heard it. The entire evening she had been waiting for the next step. Keeping alert for any sign that her test had begun. It was hard to concentrate on the conversations flowing around her as she kept one eye on the seated figure at the head of the cave, and the other on Malfoy. It made her uncomfortable whenever they were separated for too long, like she was a child lost in a supermarket.

He was standing next to her when the word slid from Voldemort. Hermione instinctively had a sudden urge to flee, to grab onto Malfoy and disapparate from the cave, never looking back. Her fingers twitched to reach out for the man standing next to her but didn’t. Instead, she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders, not bothering to look up at Malfoy before stepping out in front of Voldemort. She could feel everyone’s eyes on her as she moved, knowing she had to block everything out if she was going to pass.

“It is time to test your skills,” The hissing voice came again, dark red eyes bore into hers.” To ensure that your training has been adequate enough to serve me and my ranks.” Hermione clenched her hands, heart bounding as she noted a hint of a smirk move across the pale lips.

“Yes, my Lord.” She said, taking another step forward as she forced her body to move, fighting against the paralyzing fear that was gripping her. Never in her life had she been more scared, and she could only pray that it didn’t show. “I’ll do anything.”

And she meant it. They had come this far, risked this much. Malfoy’s words from the night before came flooding back to her, “Focus on why we are doing this.” Unbidden images of Harry and Ron flashed across her mind before she could stop them, followed by her parents, Hogwarts, the Weasley’s and even Malfoy. She was doing it for them. For a better life for all of them.

She didn’t break her gaze as a fully formed smile broke out across Voldemort’s face. He was enjoying this, Hermione thought, enjoying her fear and panic. Enjoying the control he had over her in this moment, over them all. The thought steeled her resolve even further, she wasn’t about to let this… this _thing_ beat her. 

The red eyes narrowed into slits as they scanned up and down her body. “Your test…” Voldemort continued said. “Is simple.”

Hermione seriously doubted that but waited patiently for him to say more. A flicker of something passed across the bone white face and a sudden choked gasp sounded from behind her. She heard further rustling and spun around. The site that greeted her made her blood run cold.

Malfoy stood just feet behind her, clutching at his throat as she saw blood drip from the corners of his mouth. Another strangled cry from his propelled him forward and she barely got there in time to stop his head from smashing against the rock of the cave. Hermione glanced wildly around, Voldemort and the others were watching her, no one stepping forward to help. Malfoy was shaking in her arms and his gurgling breath cut through her senses.

“Save him.” Hermione barely registered the hissing voice as she examined Malfoy, the healer training taking over as she muttered spell after spell of diagnostic tests. It hadn’t been a curse, Hermione thought. She hadn’t registered anyone speaking or any movement indicative of a spell, at least certainly not from Voldemort.

Malfoy’s eyes were closed, and she hoped that he had passed out. The shaking she had felt from him earlier as well as the clenching of muscles as if against intense pain had died down. A potion perhaps? Hermione thought, then corrected herself, no, a poison. Glancing around she looked around him for anything that could indicate he had consumed anything, a vial, a test tube. There was nothing.

None of her diagnostic tests were indicating anything and she pressed her fingers against Malfoy’s neck, praying to find a pulse still beating there. She felt the fast thrumming under her fingers and continued, tilting up his jaw and clearing his mouth of blood the best she could.

At once she noticed that his shirt was sticky, the black material wet under her fingertips that were stained with blood when she pulled them back. Cursing under her breath she wrenched open his shirt, exposing his pale chest that was now caked in fresh blood. Panicked she scanned him for an injury but found none. It was almost as if the blood were seeping from his pores, bleeding him dry before her very eyes.

What the bloody, fucking hell was this, Hermione’s panicked brain picked over every substance, every poison she knew, but found none. A thought occurred to her and she glanced up from Malfoy’s body. He was struggling to breath and the gurgling gasps assaulted her ears with each inhale.

The drinks, Hermione thought as she scampered to her feet, feeling the hemp of her dress tear at the sharp movement. She pushed against the crowd that had gathered around them, but when they didn’t move, she pulled out her wand and sent them flying. Not bothering to look around her she headed straight for the bar. It was the only way he could have ingested something, Hermione thought as she raced around to the back and started rummaging through the different bottles behind the stone counter. He hadn’t eaten anything, and she was bloody well sure he never would have allowed anyone to inject him with anything.

After a few moments of frantic searching, her eyes fell on a tiny bottle that to her just felt out of place among the large quantities of alcohol. Picking it up she yanked out the stopper and dumped the contents onto the stone table. A sickly yellow liquid slid from the bottle and hit the stone, immediately starting to smoke and curdle with the contact. As soon as the fumes hit her nose, Hermione knew what it was.

Cursing under her breath, she scanned the bottles one last time. Of course Voldemort wouldn’t put the antidote within reach. That would have been too easy. She ran back to Malfoy, seeing with relief that his chest still rose and fell, but there was now a puddle of blood under him and the thin stream of blood coming from his mouth and nose had increased.

She could hear Voldemort start to laugh as the crowd watched her panic. Suddenly, she remembered something.

“Kildly!” She cried out frantically, adjusting Malfoy’s head again so he would suffocate on the blood.

A pop sounded and Hermione looked up to find the small elf on the other side of Draco. The large blue eyes widened immensely seeing the scene before her. “Master...” She said softly, taking a step backwards at the site of her blood soaked master in front of her.

“Kildy,” Hermione said firmly, reaching out with blood stained hands to grip the front of the elf’s garment. “Go and get my bag. The small, beaded one. It’s on the desk in my room.”

“But,” the elf’s fearful voice sounded pitiful to Hermione’s ears and she could only imagine what must be going through her brain.

“Now! Go!” Hermione yelled, the frustration and fear bubbling up inside her, ready to burst.

This jarred the elf and she disappeared with a pop. A moment later, she reappeared, clutching Hermione’s beaded bag against her chest. Hermione wrenched it out of her grasp, pulling it open wide and praying that she hadn’t taken anything out from her last rotation at the hospital before it had been attacked.

“ _Accio Hemosubsisto_ ” She cried, pointing her want into the depths of the bag. Waiting a moment before a small, silvery bottle came flying up at her. Yanking it out of the air she scrambled back to Malfoy, feeling the floor of the cave scrape at the skin on her knees.

“Kildy hold his head up.” She instructed, fumbling to unstopper the vial. Please let there be enough, Hermione silently chanted.

The elf tilted Malfoy’s head upwards and Hermione tilted the contents of the vial up into his nose, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to swallow the potion with all of the blood filling his mouth. The silvery liquid slid from the bottle into Malfoy’s nose and Hermione squinted her eyes, trying to judge if there was enough for this to work.

Once the vial was empty she pinched Malfoy’s nostrils shut, waiting the minimum six seconds before tipping his head back, hoping that any remaining substance that hadn’t been absorbed would slip down his throat. For a moment it seemed like nothing had changed, the blood was still coming and Hermione ran a frustrated hand across her forehead. Then, everything changed. The bleeding slowed, the steady trickle from his mouth stopped completely and Hermione cleared his mouth as quickly as she could. The gurgling breaths calmed and she watched as he took the first full deep breath in what had probably been seven minutes.

His pulse under her fingers was still fast but no longer irregular. He was going to live, she thought, tears pricking her eyes at the sudden wave of relief that washed over her. She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the ground and weep.

“Well done.” A voice sounded from just above her and she jumped, turning to see that Voldemort had left his thrown and descended the dais. He was standing not a foot behind her, staring down at the harrowing scene with glee in his red eyes. His enjoyment of the process was evident with the sickening sneer that crept across his lips.

“You have surpassed my expectations, healer.” He said, meeting her eyes directly. “Welcome.”

Hermione felt her hands shaking as they gripped Malfoy’s arm tighter so that no one noticed. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t even know if she could speak at this moment. The nerves that had been so high strung the entire evening were now shot, completely frayed and broken, leaving her numb.

“You make take Mr. Malfoy to finish his recovery. You are one of us now.” Voldemort said, meeting her eyes one last time before turning back to his followers. “We have a healer!” He cried out and cheers and roars erupted around them.

They echoed off the cave walls, but Hermione barely heard them as she tightened her grip on Malfoy and left. Just the fact that she was now able to apparate herself out of the cave and into the Manor was proof enough that she had been initiated into the following.

She landed with a painful thud on her knees, still clutching a the blood soaked fabric of Malfoy’s jacket. They were in the main entrance, Hermione saw as she quickly glanced around before turning her attention back to her patient. His breathing was more regular now but the color of his skin was a deathly pale, something she hadn’t quite noticed in the shadows of the cave.

“Kildy, please take him upstairs to his room. Undress and clean him if you can while I get a blood replenishing potion.” Hermione said, her voice starting to tremble a bit as the adrenaline that had been pulsing through her body started to wear off. Her hands were shaking harder now too and she clenched them into fists, scooting backwards as the elf gripped her master and disappeared with a pop.

For a moment, Hermione felt as though she were in a void. The hall was empty, silent. She could hear her own blood rushing loudly in her ears and suddenly felt her resolve break. Then, in the middle of Malfoy Manor with the soft light of the moon spilling over her pale skin, Hermione curled into herself and sobbed. Her forehead touched the cool marble of the floor and she felt hot tears slipping freely from her eyes. She wanted to scream, to shout. So she did. Her cry echoing off the vast ceiling and walls, pinging back to her and assaulting her own ears.

She banged one hand against the floor and gave another frustrated sob. It was too much, this was all too much. Malfoy had almost died, almost fucking died in front of her eyes because of some bloody test. Her shoulders shook as she inhaled shaky breaths. They knew the risk, knew what they were getting themselves into. But never in a million years had Hermione imagined Voldemort using Malfoy’s life as her deciding factor. Then again, it really shouldn’t surprise her.

The thought was sobering and she pushed against the floors, swiping her hands across her cheeks as she sniffed. A surge of anger coursed through her. He had not beaten them, she thought fiercely. She had won, Malfoy was still alive, she had won.

Taking a final shaky breath, Hermione pushed herself up from the flow, grimacing at her blood-stained arms and hands, the torn strips of silk of her skirt. Pushing both thoughts aside she ascended the stairs, not trusting herself enough yet to apparate again.

Kildy was just finishing settling Malfoy in his bed when Hermione entered the room. The lanterns along the walls were lit but emanated a softer light across the dark room. The elf looked up at Hermione as she crossed the room and bowed slightly.

“Miss has saved Master Malfoy. Kildy is that grateful.” The large blue eyes filled with tears and a few slipped over the gray skin of the elf’s cheeks. She grabbed onto the hem of Hermione’s dress and buried her face into the torn silk, weeping.

Hermione felt momentarily uncomfortable before reaching down and resting her hand against the bonnet resting on Kildy’s head. “It’s alright. He’s going to be fine.”

The elf nodded under her touch and pulled away from her, sniffing loudly. “Kildy will bring miss some tea.”

Hermione tried to smile and nod at the elf, grateful that she wasn’t having to give her any directions. Once Kildy was gone, Hermione turned to the figure on the bed. She had stopped in her room to rummage through her stores of basic healing potions, selecting a few that she knew she would be needing in his final stages of treatment.

The blood replenishing one was easy enough for her to administer and she watched as slow shades of color returned to his cheeks and the pale skin of his bare chest. Sighing, she set the rest of the bottles on the small table by the bed and settled herself on the edge of the mattress. Looking closely, she didn’t see any further signs of damage to his person. Then again there wouldn’t be any outward signs, Hermione thought bitterly. The poison that had been used on him was rare, so rare that she remembered it only being mentioned once in her training, and even then, it was in passing.

Malfoy’s skin was clean again after Kildy’s administrations, the only sign of the night’s trauma was a small bruise on his right arm were Hermione’s own fingers had dug into his skin. She sighed and leaned over him, checking his eyes to make sure that there hadn’t been any latent brain damage due to the decreased blood supply. His pupils constricted at the invasion of light and Hermione closed her own eyes in relief.

Sliding off the mattress she summoned one of the high-backed armchairs that usually resided by the windows. Without bothering to wait for Kildy to return with the tea, Hermione settled herself down on the green velvet, pulled her knees to her chest, leaned her head back, and closed her eyes.

-

Draco’s head was pounding when he felt himself slip from the blissful peace of sleep. He felt bone chilling cold sweep over him and he shuddered. His brain and thoughts felt sluggish as he tried to open his eyes. Merlin, even his eyelids felt tired.

Finally, he was able to see, blinking against the bright light that had cascaded over him from the open windows. As he looked to his right at the open windows, he focused on something closer to him.

Hermione was curled up in one of his chairs, only feet from his bedside. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and her head was resting against the back of the chair. Squinting, he saw that she was still wearing the dress he had picked out for her for her initiation. The skirt was torn and the side of her thigh was revealed. He furrowed his brows at the sight and then noticed a streak of dried blood on her cheek.

Suddenly concerned between the blood, the torn dress, the fact that she was here in his bedroom at all, Draco tried to sit up. He pushed at the mattress and fell back with a gasp as a sharp pain shot through his arms. What the bloody hell was going on? He thought. What the hell had happened last night. He tried to search his memory for any indication of any abnormal events, but only remembered ending the evening walking about the cave with Hermione at his side.

Hermione must have heard his gasp of pain as her eyes flew open at the sound. She looked over at him immediately and he saw a wave of relief wash over her face. “Malfoy.” She breathed out before stretching out her limbs form the chair and all but launching herself at him.

He grunted as her arms wrapped around his neck, the weight of her pressing against his chest as she buried her face in his neck. She whispered his name over and over again and he thought he felt the slight wetness of tears on his shoulder. He hesitated for a moment, the pain and unfamiliarity of the embrace slowing his movements, but then he wrapped his own arms around her back and squeezed.

Something bad had obviously happened, Draco thought. And for this single moment he was going to pretend it hadn’t. Pretend that he and Granger weren’t enemies and that she was hugging him simply because she wanted to. It had been so long since he had felt the embrace of another human being. It was a foreign feeling but he reveled in it. Her body was warm against him and he could feel the smoothness of the skin on her back, the thin lace acting as the only barrier between her skin and his.

After a few more moments, Hermione pulled back, sniffing slightly as she stared down at him.

“Morning.” Draco breathed out, feeling the pain course through his chest at the sudden shift in pressure.

Hermione smiled slightly, her lips wavering as she swiped at her eyes and leaned back to sit on the edge of his bed, her leg drawn up underneath her. He saw the blood stains on her hand and wrists and furrowed his brows, pushing himself up on his elbows once more. She made a slight noise of protest at this, but he glared at her.

Finally getting up into a sitting position, he caught his breath before looking up at her. She was still wearing the gold ring, but her face was her own. The allotted time must have run out.

“What the hell happened, Granger?” He asked, swearing at the soreness in his throat. “Gods, why do I hurt so much?”

Hermione swallowed and watched him. He had paled significantly in his movements to sit up and she almost left then and there to get another blood replenishing potion. The intensity of his gaze kept her seated thought.

“I passed.” She said, wringing her hands together in her lap.

“You passed?” Malfoy asked with a shake of his head. “What do you mean, you passed? You weren’t even tested.”

Her brows raised at his words and he immediately knew that there must be a lot that he didn’t remember. “What is the last thing you remember?” Hermione asked tentatively, hoping that it wouldn’t be the excruciating pain he must have felt, or choking on his own blood.

Draco considered this for a moment, shuffling through his memories to find the likely most recent one. “Talking to Yancor. The git.”

He heard Hermione sigh and snapped his head up to look at her. She looked tired, he noticed, so very tired. There were shadows under her eyes and her hair was falling from the sleek updo to float about her shoulders.

“He hurt you.” She said simply, trying to find the best way to explain what had happened. “No, he poisoned you, or at least someone else did on his bequest.”

“Poisoned?” Draco asked with a shake of his head.

Hermione’s brown eyes met his and the intensity of them made him shut his mouth. “He called me forward, saying that it was time for my test, saying that it would be simple.” She scoffed at this and pressed her lips into a thin line. “The next thing I knew you were crying out and shaking from pain, choking on your own blood.

That explains the sore throat, Draco thought, not really comprehending her words. She went on though. “He ordered me to save you, as my test. He poisoned you and then forced me to prove myself by risking your life.” The anger seeping from her words surprised her and for the first time since the events of last night, she realized just how bloody angry she was. Voldemort had dangled Malfoy’s life in front of her eyes and if she had failed, he would have died. And so would she.

“It was a _Hemophiliat_ ,” Hermione continued, trying to keep her tone even and collected. “Do you know what they do?”

Draco shook his head, having never heard the word before.

Hermione nodded, “It’s okay, most people don’t. I wouldn’t have except for a single bloody passage in one of my textbooks. It’s a poison. A poison that basically shreds through your blood vessels. Spilling your blood into body cavities and causing it to exit the body by any possible means.”

The description made him uncomfortable and he was immensely grateful that he did not remember any of it. “Sounds pleasant.”

She eyed him and gave a slight grin. “It’s blood painful. Or..” she glanced at him,” at least it sounded like it.”

He wondered what noises he must have made, feeling momentarily embarrassed, thinking that he must have cried out, or worse. Shaking away the thoughts, he nodded at her to continue.

“It’s also one of the most deadly poisons known in the wizarding world. It builds up in your system until it reaches a critical level. From there it can take minutes or even hours to activate, no one really knows. I would assume along an hour in your case. It was in the drinks.” She said, meeting his eyes.

He furrowed his brow, remembering the purple, murky liquid that he had drank on countless occasions in the cave. “But everyone was drinking it, you were drinking it.”

“I know. I think it was specifically put in your drink, somehow. Either way it reached it critical point at just the right moment apparently. You succumbed as soon as Voldemort announced it was time for my test.” She shook her head. “Then you collapsed, bleeding everywhere and I had no bloody clue what the hell had happened.”

“Well obviously not,” Draco said, trying to move his mouth into a smile. “I’m still here and alive.”

She gave him a grateful smile and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Yes, you are. Thank Merlin. I knew it wasn’t a spell, no one had cast anything. The fast onset of symptoms only eluded to a poison and I knew the only thing you had consumed was the drink. I found a small vial of the _Hemopheliat_ behind the bar. It’s quite a distinctive poison, if you know what you’re looking for.” She said, remembering the sickly scent of the fumes.

“Kildy was able to get me my medical supplies. In school we had to brew any antidote we wanted for one of the finals. For some bloody reason I chose the _Hemosubsisto_ and kept it with me as a sort of momento _._ ” She shook her head, letting the gravity of the situation wash over her.

Draco saw her face go blank and her breathing pick up in speed. “Gods, Malfoy. If I hadn’t had that potion in my bag.” She broke off, shaking her head as she stared at him.

He saw the impending breakdown before it started to happen and he reached out and took her hand, squeezing it tightly as he looked her directly in the eyes. “But you did. You were a bloody overachiever and decided to brew an antidote for a poison you had barely heard of.” The gravity of the situation fell over him as well, but he pushed it aside.

Her brown eyes held his for a moment more before she nodded. “Guess being a know-it-all pays off.”

Draco chuckled and felt a genuine smile warm his face. “Guess it does.”

She smiled back at him. “Anyways, you started to get better and Voldemort told me I passed. Then we came back here, and I gave you a few more potions to help speed the healing process. And now, here we are.” She shrugged, slumping her shoulders as she finished the tale.

While she was glad that he didn’t remember it, didn’t remember the pain or the fear. She almost wished he did so she wouldn’t be alone in the experience. In the past four years of fighting with the order she hadn’t felt as afraid as she did in that cave. With the order she knew that she was around friends, around family. But in that cave, without Malfoy, she was alone. Completely alone in a room of people who would torture and murder her without a second thought. In that moment, she felt more alone than she had her entire life.

Draco watched as her face showed a myriad of emotions and he wondered what she was thinking. He reached out and wit his other hand, rubbed her upper arm. “It’s okay. God Granger, you saved my life.”

She met his eyes and he saw the sadness and fatigue in them. “Thank you.” He said, making sure that she heard the sincerity in his voice. “I mean it Hermione, thank you.”

Her brows rose slightly at his words, never thinking that Draco Malfoy would be thanking her, let alone saying her name. She stared at him for a few seconds. “You’re welcome.. Draco.” She said the last bit quietly, feeling the foreign word fall from her lips as his grey eyes warmed by a fraction.

It was a silent understanding that passed through them. A sense of camaraderie at the terror that they had both been through that night. The order was on their side, but in this endeavor, it was just the two of them, fighting for the freedom they both desperately desired.


	9. Chapter 9

“I’ll need to let the order know what’s happened.”

Draco turned at her voice and watched as she padded into his study. She was rubbing a towel against her wet curls which were dark with water. After the night they had, they had both needed a hot shower. Gone was the ruined dress she had worn during her initiation and she was now dressed in what looked to him like pajamas, black skintight pants hugged her legs and her long sleeve grey shirt had splotches of wet from her hair. His eyes traveled down to her bare feet and he narrowed his eyes at the sight.

She saw his expression change and stopped drying her hair, glanced down to where his eyes had fallen. “What?”

His eyes snapped back up and he momentarily felt embarrassed having been caught looking at her feet. “Nothing. Just imaging the reaction my parents would have had knowing that bare feet had walked across their perfect floors.”

Hermione snorted before flipping her head down and wrapping the towel securely around her head. “I think my presence here in general would incite the coronary, never mind my bare feet.”

Draco inclined his head in agreement and turned back to the paper he had sprawled across his desk. He still felt off after his injuries last night, Granger had assured him that his focus would return as his body finished replenishing his lost blood, but the papers still refused to focus. He hadn’t gotten through half of the front page of the report he was attempting reading before he heard Granger clear her throat.

He glanced up at her and found her staring down at him, arms crossed across her chest. “What?” He asked, annoyance at her presence rippling through him. “Did you need something?”

She raised her brows at him and took a step forward. Obviously, their impromptu moment of sharing emotions had ended as soon as it began, and he was back to giving her the cold shoulder. Fine by her, she thought as she met his grey eyes.

“I said that I would need to tell the order about this. They knew there would be some sort of test and I need to let them know that I’m alright.”

His face was expressionless. “Then tell them.” He said simply and turned his eyes back to his work. Squinting at the papers he sighed and rubbed his eyes as the words continued to slither across the page. 

“Malfoy I can’t just tell them. I still haven’t finished all the coins yet so we have no means of communication right now. I’ll need to go back and tell them in person.”

Draco opened his burning eyes and looked up at her again, his brows furrowed. “Did me telling you that you can’t be going there every day mean nothing?”

His voice was cold with and edge of frustration, and Hermione felt her guard come back up like the brick wall she had built in her mind. Draco started again, rubbing at his temple as he spoke. “This isn’t a fucking vacation Granger. You can’t just come and go as you please. You experienced just how deep he will delve into your mind and I will give you credit for making it past him for your first time. But it will get harder each time he violates your memories. And in turn, he will get more persistent.”

“I can handle it.” Hermione said defensively, not wanting to think about the slippery invasion of her thoughts she had experienced last night. It had felt like a snake sliding through her mind, flicking it’s tongue over every corner of her memories.

Draco raised his brows at her. “Can you? Because the more time you’re with the order, the closer to the front of your thoughts those memories are going to be, the stronger they’re going to be. I’m risking my life letting you be here, helping you. You get caught, you’re dead. But so am I.”

His eyes met hers again and all she saw was the cold, grey expanse of them. “I’m not stupid, Malfoy. I understand that communication with the order must be limited but I need to let them know that I’m alright.”

“Why?” He asked, leaning back in the high backed armchair that sat in front of his father’s desk. 

She made an exacerbated noise and narrowed her eyes at him, leaning forward to place her hands on the mahogany surface. “We’re not Death Eaters, Malfoy. Unlike your little group, we actually care about what happens to each other. Unless of course you want Harry storming in here and alerting Voldemort of your betrayal?”

Draco snorted before schooling his thoughts again. His ‘little group’ as she had called them, would just as soon torture one another before a single thought was spared for their wellbeing. And as for Potter, well… she had a point.

“You’ll keep it short?” He asked.

“Of course.” Hermione said, removing her hands from the desk and straitening her back.

He watched her for a few moments, making her feel like an intruder in his life, or at the very least like an unwelcome house guest. The flames in the fireplace behind him were crackling and made his silvery hair look almost transparent.

Finally, he nodded and dropped his gaze again, attempting once again to focus his attention on the documents before him. Sensing that the conversation was quite over, Hermione shook her head at him and turned to leave. He was just the same, she thought as she made her way back up the expansive stairs to her room, cold and harsh.

Sighing she slipped shoes onto her feet, grabbed the beaded bag and dropped the towel to the floor, drying the rest of her hair with a flick of her wand. Glancing once more about the extravagant room, she sighed and walked to the fireplace.

***

The living room of Grimmauld place was empty when she stepped out from the green flames. An unusual sight in the normally bustling house. The majority of the order members had resided within the walls for the past year as the rest of the safe houses were slowly attacked, one by one. The Burrow still remained, though Hermione knew that it would only be a matter of time before that was attacked and fell to Voldemort.

Sighing, she passed the still cloth covered portrait of Mrs. Black and headed out into the hallway, hearing the faint sound of voices coming from behind the kitchen door as she approached. The voices grew louder the closer she got and the angry tone of them made her pause.

“What if she’s dead? What then Remus?” She heard what had to be Harry yelling as she raised her hand to push open the door. “The bloody snake brought her right into the pit. I told you this was a bad idea.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione pushed through the door and stepped into the warmly lit kitchen, momentarily enjoyed the startled expression on the group inside. Tensions were high, she noted, observing the short distance between Harry and Remus Lupin while Ron, Ginny and Neville watched from the sidelines. 

“Hermione.” Harry breathed out with relief before crossing the room to pull her into a hug. “Thank Godric you’re back.” He pulled back and looked her over, placing his hands on her upper arms. “You’re alright?”

She gave him a slight smile and nodded. ‘Fine’ wasn’t necessarily the word she would have used having just spent the night before in the presence of their enemy. Not to mention having to save Malfoy’s life in order to save her own. Fine was far from how she felt, but her mood immediately lifted being back in the presence of her friends.

“Yes.” She said, glancing around to the others in the room. “I’m fine. But I can’t stay long. I know you’d all be worrying” she gave a pointed look to Harry whose lips twitched slightly. “So I am checking in. Letting you know that I’m alright and that I’m officially in.”

“In?” Ron asked from behind Harry, his brows furrowed. “I thought you had to do some sort of initiation thing?”

She smiled. “Yes, and I passed with flying colors. Did you really expect anything else?”

Ron rolled his eyes and came over to give her a quick hug. “Not entirely, thought I suspected it wasn’t going to be your typical exam. Not exactly something you could study for.”

She laughed and kissed his cheek. “Not in the slightest.”

She told them exactly what had happened last night. Told them about facing Voldemort and his followers. About the environment in the cave and the conversations she had had. And finally, she watched the shocked and horrified looks appear on their faces as she recounted her test.

“Bloody psychopaths.” Ron said as she finished her story.

“Well what did you expect?” Ginny asked, coming over to stand by Harry. “Hermione are you sure this is the only option? You know you don’t have to do this. There are other things that we could try, safer things.”

Hermione stepped towards the red head, squeezing her hand. Ginny had had a difficulty time since the Hogwart’s Battle. Losing Fred and Percy in the same day had taken its effect on the entire Weasley family, but trying to hold that family together was even harder. It had always fallen to Ginny to try and keep everyone together and functioning, and the youngest Weasley had suffered for it. Harry had watched over her as best he could, but there were still demons that seemed to haunt her that even the chosen one couldn’t chase away. They all had demons, and they all dealt with them different ways.

Hermione met her eyes and gave her a soft smile. “I do have to, Gin. We’ve run out of options.”

Ginny bit her lip and nodded, squeezing Hermione’s hand while Harry’s arm draped across her shoulders. The small display of affection and protection warmed Hermione for a moment, reminding her just what they were fighting for. The chance to have a normal life with the one’s they loved, to protect each other at all costs.

Sighing, she dropped Ginny’s hand and turned back to Lupin. “Where is everyone? I didn’t think there was anything scheduled for tonight.”

Remus inclined his head towards her and sat down in a seat at the kitchen table. “Well, knowing the pit was likely going to be occupied welcoming their new healer, we figured it would be a good night to restock.”

The order didn’t exactly have a consistent run of supplies as all of the stores in Diagon Alley were now under control of Voldemort and his regime. The Weasley’s kept an extensive garden which fed a small portion of the order’s ranks as well as the patient’s at the hospital, but it was no where near the amount needed to sustain them. They tried to schedule weekly raids on supply chains to keep their stores up. Normally Hermione would have been right there with them, and she could easily admit that she felt guilty for not having been there.

“Did it go alright?”

Ron was the one to answer as Lupin just looked at her. “Not exactly. Turns out they’re getting a bit tired of us helping ourselves to their resources. The guard was quite a bit higher.”

Hermione glanced around her friends. “But everyone’s alright? No one got hurt?”

Neville shook his head. “Not seriously. A few bad burns but Zabini was able to patch them up pretty quickly. Luna was hit with some sort of spell and is still out last we heard, but she seems stable.”

Hermione furrowed her brows at this. It would have been her responsibility to have cared for the injured, and Luna’s condition concerned her more than it seemed to concern the others. “She’s not woken up yet?”

Neville shook his head and Hermione met Harry’s eyes. “I think I’ll go to the Burrow before heading back to the manor. See if there is anything I can help with.”

No one said anything but Harry nodded, slipping his arm off of Ginny. “I’ll go with you. Needed to speak to George about something anyways.”

They bid farewell to the rest of the group, heading a stern warming from Lupin to be safe before apparating.

Clean crisp air of the countryside filled her lungs when the landed in the swampy yard outside the tall house. For a moment it felt like she was simply coming back from Hogwarts for the summer, ready to enjoy a blissful vacation with the Weasley’s. The thought forced a flash of guilt to shoot through her. She should have been at home during those summers, enjoying the time with her parents… while she had the chance.

The stark white tent of the makeshift hospital stood out starkly against the clear blue sky. She had helped construct this place as soon as St. Mungos had been attacked, knowing that the victims of the war would only multiply. It had been her and two other healers in the beginning, both of them had been killed in the efforts. Thankfully Blaise had been mostly through his training and had been able to step up and work right alongside her.

Hermione looked forward to seeing her friend and co-healer as they crossed the yard towards the tent. It was an odd relationship, the previous pureblood slytherin and the muggle-born Gryffindor, working side by side in the order. Blaise had been instrumental in saving the lives of many of the order members, providing him quick acceptance into their ranks.

The man in question glanced up as she entered the tent, having left Harry at the house. He breathed an audible sigh of relief and stepped forward, pulling her into his arms. “Thank bloody hell.”

Hermione squeezed his waist tightly, breathing in the comforting scent of him. He was one of her best friends, more than friends on a few occasions when they needed comfort that no one else could provide. Healing took something out of a person, made you feel numb after you had spent the night elbow deep in another human’s blood and tissues. They were there for each other, easily seeking out comfort as they helped each other feel again. 

She felt him kiss the top of her head and pulled back from him. “How’re things?” She asked, glancing around at the partially full cots around them. Knowing not all of them were injuries from the battle or the raid made her feel better. The hospital was fully functioning, providing all sorts of magical services.

Blaise sighed and followed her gaze. “Fine I guess. It’s certainly taken me a lot longer to get through everyone,” he glanced at her “ I never realized how quickly you work.”

She gave him a slight smile before moving down the aisle, searching out Luna. “Neville said Luna was hit last night?”

They had reached the bed that held the slight blond woman and Hermione stepped forward.

“No one saw what it was, just found her behind the building where she was supposed to be keeping watch. I couldn’t find anything on diagnostics and none of the anti-curses worked. I figured just wait for her to wake up.” Blaise had stepped forward to join her at the bedside, looking down at Luna’s pale face. Hermione knew he had feelings for the witch, and she reached over to squeeze his arm.

“Her vitals have been stable?” Hermione asked, performing her own set of quick diagnostics. Everything appeared normal, baring the fact that the witch was still unconscious.

Blaise nodded, watching as Hermione worked. He had great respect for her skills and knew that she was one of the best healers still in Britain. Her quick movements and flicks of her wand gave away her skills and Blaise watched transfixed.

Finding nothing, Hermione sighed and dropped her hand to Luna’s arm. Her skin felt cold under Hermione’s touch and the concern she held for the blond witch grew.

“I suppose we will just have to wait then.” Hermione said. “I’m sorry Blaise.” She glanced over at the healer, seeing the worry evident in the furrow of his brows.

“Is there anything else I can help with while I’m here? Did you have any questions about my notes?” She asked, stepping away from Luna’s bed to glance around the rest of the tent. The small room of potions and other medical supplies sat on the opposite wall of the tent, fully warded and locked to anyone but her, Blaise and the medi-witches that cycled through.

She had left him the extensive notes she had kept during her time in training and then after during her actual work. It was as close to finishing his training as he would come without a proper facility.

“No, not for now.” Blaise said, meeting her eyes. “Though you should know that I whole heartedly object to what you’re doing.”

She smiled slightly at him. “Why? Because I get to spend time with your best friend while you don’t?”

The dark brown eyes narrowed at her. “Draco is not my friend Hermione. Not anymore.”

Hermione studied his face for a moment, searching out the Slytherin who had spent his last year at Hogwarts as one of Draco’s goonies. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring it up. But he’s helping us Blaise, maybe not all is lost.”

She saw the tightening of his jaw and knew that Blaise would rather curse Luna himself than forgive his old friend. Standing up on her toes she kissed his cheek and rubbed her hand against his arm.

“Luna’s going to be alright. I really do think so. But I have to go.”

“Have you gotten the mark yet?” Blaise asked, his tone flat as he searched her face. His own dark mark had been marred by him trying to cut it out of his skin after that last year at Hogwarts.

It was something she had meant to ask Malfoy about. It had been their understanding that the Dark Mark was bestowed upon those who were initiated into the ranks, and it had been a sacrifice that Hermione had been willing to take. To be marked by the dark wizard in the hopes of ending the war for good. The thought of having the tattoo burned into her skin disgusted her, but then again, it wouldn’t be the first brand she held in the name of the war.

“No. I was initiated last night but I suppose the ending was a bit of a flurry of events. Maybe it’ll happen at a later meeting.”

Blaise’s own initiation events had been told to her under the cover of darkness after a particularly deadly battle for the order. They had been huddled together under a blanket in the field outside of the hospital, both of their hands caked with blood. Blaise had broken down, sobbing as he recounted the elderly wizard, he had been forced to kill to prove his loyalty. It had been the first night they had been together, and a friendship had formed, thickened by the blood of the victims dried on their skin. He had left directly after his initiation, doing everything he could since then to repent his actions.

“Just be careful Mia.” Blaise said, giving her a soft smile. “I still need someone around to finish my training.”

Hermione smiled at him and hugged him again, grabbing a vial of blood replenishing potion on her way out to replace the one that she had used this morning at Malfoy Manor. She stood for a moment outside of the tent, soaking in the sunlight that fell down on her skin, knowing it would be some time before she would be outside during the day again.

Blaise Luna

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a shorter chapter, hit a bit of a writer's block and had to get things moving again. I really want to incorporate more characters that weren't necessarily featured in the books. Please leave some comments and let me know your ideas! I love hearing what directions readers want things to go in.


	10. Chapter 10

The next week and a half at the Manor were silent. Hermione hadn’t seen Malfoy a single time since arriving back from the burrow. She ate alone, she read in the library alone, she spent her days completely alone. She didn’t even know if he was in the house, which only made her more concerned. She didn’t like being kept out of the loop, let alone feeling isolated in this cold house so close to their enemy. Every time she passed by his bedroom door she would always walk as quietly as possible, listening for the tell-tale noise coming from behind the door.

She tried to dig through his office on more than one occasion, attempting to rattle the locked drawers of his desk free. The house was immaculately kept as she found during her explorations, not a book out of place or a speck of dust on the many surfaces. Hermione found it was all due to Kildy, who followered her like a shadow, cleaning and putting everything back in it’s rightful place once Hermione exited the room. She could only imagine the strict upbringing the elf must have had under the service of the Malfoys.

On the third day of her isolation, Hermione walked downstairs towards the kitchen, glancing briefly at the dark grounds as she passed down the long hallway. As she descended the marble stairs into the kitchen she heard the banging of what sounded like glass and metal clashing together. She couldn’t imagine the elf being that aggressive with the Malfoy’s possessions, so that could only leave one other possibility. 

He stood with his back towards her as she entered the stark space, standing bent over a large pot on the kitchen stove. It was surprising to her to see him in such a domestic position, but as the sharp scent of mugwort filled her nostrils, Hermione concluded he wasn’t cooking dinner.

She watched him work for a moment, eyes following his quick movements as he stirred the contents of the pot with one hand and with the other, measured out exact amounts of herbs and liquids from the many jars on the counter next to him. It was almost like a dance and she could appreciate the grace in which he performed it. The stiff demeanor he usually held seemed to melt away as he moved back and forth between his potion and the ingredients.

“What are you making?” She asked, biting her lip to keep the smile from her face as he jumped and knocked over the bottle of powdered dragon scale he had been reaching for.

He glanced over his shoulder at her before turning back to his work, wordlessly cleaning up the spill with a flick of his wand.

“Veritaserum.” He said simply, dropping a thin sliver of silver hair into the pot. He stared down at the contents for a moment before, seemingly satisfied, placing the lid and turning the head down on the stove.

“You really think you’ll use that much veritaserum?” Hermione asked, leaning her hip against the counter as she watched him rinse off his hands at the sink.

Draco turned to her, drying his hands on a towel. “The Dark Lord values honestly above all else in his followers.” Hermione raised her brows at him. “Well, maybe not honesty precisely, just not being able to keep things from him.”

“I can imagine.” Hermione said. This was the most they had spoke in days, the most she had spoken to anyone actually.

“So where did you go?”

He glanced over at her from his work replacing the ingredients in their various cupboards. She wished just once he would show some sort of emotion or expression across his pale face, it was like talking to a block of ice that wanted to bite your head off.

“I was summoned.” He said simply, closing the open cupboard and wiping the surface of the counter clean with the towel.

Hermione sighed and ran a hand through her curls. “Look Malfoy, you don’t have to tell me. God knows I’m not your nanny. But if it has to do with Voldemort don’t you think I would benefit from knowing as much as I can about what is going on? I don’t want to be blind sided by anything, it will only make things more difficult to adjust to.”

“Scared you can’t keep up?” Draco said, leaning against the edge of the counter as he looked at her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “Can you not? I’m not here to make your life harder. This was all your idea remember. You invited me into your home. You set everything up in the pit for me to get in. So, don’t shut me out now. Like you said, it’s both of our lives on the line here.”

His grey eyes held hers and she refused to break the connection, refused to back down. After a few moments he sighed and crossed his arms over the black shirt clad chest. He looked tired she noted, the dark circles under his eyes denoted the likely lack of sleep he had had in Voldemort’s presence.

“I don’t like you.” Draco said finally.

“Okay, that was never really an uncertainty of mine.” Hermione said warily, not entirely sure where he was going with this.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “It’s not for the reasons you probably think. I could care less about your blood status, honestly it’s my belief that pure blood are a bunch of inbred freaks but-“ he shrugged and she raised her brows at him “- can’t fight your heritage. No, it’s never been your background that I don’t like.”

“Then what is it? You’ve certainly been vocal about your distaste for my blood status.”

He turned and flicked off the stove. “It was what was expected of me.” He said simply. “Plus, never ceased to get a rise out of Potter.”

She could hear the slight shift in his voice and with his back to her, she could almost picture him smiling. “To be honest Granger. I don’t like you because of your incessant need to be right. And not just right,” he turned to her, “But good and right.”

She didn’t say anything, waiting for him to continue.

He tilted his head at her. “You’ll never know what it’s like to have your destiny planned out for you before you even have the chance to know your name. From the moment my father sided with Him, I was destined to be evil. And after that, nothing else I would ever do mattered.”

He watched as she drew her brows together, trying to understand what he was saying. “Did you know that I was second in our class?” Draco asked suddenly, meeting her eyes again.

Hermione nodded. As someone who lived by the grades she got, she was acutely aware of her standing as the smartest student in the class, and was also acutely aware of those that followed her.

Draco grunted and shook his head. “I was second only to the great Hermione Granger. I advanced at potions, even got my mastery after Hogwarts. But did it ever matter? Of course not, I was evil. That was all that anyone will ever know about me.”

He crossed to the ice box and pulled out a bottle that looked suspiciously like muggle beer, Hermione noticed. “But you Granger, everyone knows about you. You’re the brightest witch of your age, one of the rising healers. No one doubts your brilliance, or your compassion or the part you played in the war. Because you are good.”

“You’re not evil.” Hermione spoke before she even realized the words were leaving her mouth.

Draco lowered the bottle slowly from his lips, his dark eyes finding hers. Across the white kitchen he looked even paler than usual, but his silhouette stood out starkly against the white cabinets. She suddenly felt very sorry for him. This had been his life. The world hating him for his parent’s choices. He never had a chance to be anything else.

Hermione sighed. “You’re not evil.” She repeated, stepping around the island to take her own bottle from the fridge.

“No?” Draco asked, watching as she raised the drink to her lips. “I beg to differ.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away from him, rummaging through the nearest cupboard for the snack she had been in search of when she first made her way down to the kitchen. “Oh please, your family for generations have served the dark side of magic. Your father was at the right hand of Voldemort since he gained power. You aunt is..” Hermione paused at the mention of Bellatrix and glanced over her shoulder to find Malfoy’s brows raised at her. Shrugging she continued, “And your aunt is a sick psychopath who probably fucks Voldemort’s brains out.”

A burst of laughter came from behind her and she turned quickly to see Draco wiping beer off his chin. Trying not to smile at his outburst she raised her brows at him. He met her eyes and coughed, swallowing hard as the corner of his mouth twitched. “Well you’re not wrong.” He said casually.

Hermione smiled slowly and shook her head, letting her own laughter bubble from her lips. “I’ll have to let Ron know his assumptions were correct.” She met his eyes again, happy to find that some of the ice behind them had melted. “Like you said, you didn’t have a choice. We all know that. Just as Harry didn’t have a choice in his life. You told me that you have never killed anyone.”

“No, but that doesn’t mean I haven’t hurt people.”

Hermione inclined her head and took another swig from her bottle. “I know that. And maybe that does make you a bad person. But look at who you’re talking to. I’m here standing in your kitchen because you are trying to do the right thing. No one who’s truly evil would be fighting to do the right thing.”

The silence that followed was deafening as they both stood staring at each other. Only a few feet separated them but for a moment it felt like they had never been closer. Draco tilted his head and raised the beer back to his mouth.

Hermione rolled her eyes and followed suit, surprised to see the faintest hint of a smile that formed on Malfoy’s face as he swallowed.

“Let hope you’re not wrong Granger.”

“You already established that I’m always right.” She said, raising her brows at him. The grin widened slightly, and he dropped his gaze.

“Well,” He said, looking up at her. “I was only second in my class, what do I know?”

She smiled back at him and he shrugged, giving her a final look before walking past her to leave the kitchen. Hermione watched him as he left, happy to know that there was a semblance of a normal person underneath the brooding, ice wall of a person he portrayed. Smiling to herself she peaked underneath the lid of the large pot still hot on the stove. Crystal clear, she noted and smiled. He may be second best, Hermione thought, but he was second best only by a margin.

***

“For the last time Granger, I can’t tell you what the Dark Lord is planning.” Draco gritted his teeth as he watched her pace in front of his desk. He had had a good night’s sleep for what felt like the first time in ages and had woken with what had initially felt like a good mood. This was quickly squashed when Hermione had marched into his office at seven in the morning, demanding he tell her everything that had happened in his absence.

“Why the hell not?” Hermione on the other hand, had slept very poorly, waking up with a foul headache. She rarely drank with the order. None of them ever knew when the next attack would be so the risk of getting drunk and not being ready to fight was too high. The single beer she had had in Malfoy’s kitchen last night had left her feeling lightheaded and nauseous. Likely accounting for the pounding in her head when she woke this morning. “I told you that you can’t keep things from me.”

He glanced up at her annoyed, all friendliness from last night gone from his face. “The Dark Lord has a very strict policy about sharing plans.”

Hermione snorted and turned to face him, placing her hands on her hips. Draco smirked for a moment as she suddenly reminded him of Professor McGonagall. “What? He makes you pinky swear?”

He blinked at her, not a clue what a ‘pinky swear’ was, but from the sarcastic tone of her voice, he deduced it wasn’t complimentary to him. “No. More like a fidelious charm.”

Hermione stopped her pacing and looked over at him. He was always the picture of calmness, leaning back in his chair as he waited for her to speak. “A fidelious charm? How does that keep you from talking about your plans?”

Draco leaned forward and rested his forearms on the desk surface. “The same way it keeps you from revealing the location of your headquarters.”

“But,” Hermione began, her brows furrowing in confusion. “Are you saying that Voldemort figured out how to fidelious words as well as locations?”

Draco inclined his head towards her. “In a form. It’s still linked to the location, more specifically he himself is the location. During the meetings, anything that was said cannot be repeated outside of his presence without his direct permission.”

Hermione crossed her arms in front of her and was silent for a moment. “Well that’s brilliant.” Draco almost laughed at the disappointment in her voice that directly contradicted her words.

“Well then how are we supposed to let the order know what is happening, what to expect? They need to be able to prepare for any further attacks. We don’t have the numbers to lose any more people before we figure out a way to kill him.”

She had finished the rest of the coins during her time alone in the manor, sending them through the floo network to the Burrow. The sudden connection between her and the order felt like the tethering of a lifeline, one that she held onto for dear life. They were able to communicate now, she only wished that she had more information for them.

“I’ve already thought of that.” Draco said, opening the top drawer of his desk to pull out a small device. Hermione took a step forward to better see the object.

“Is that..” she glanced up to look at him. “Is that a tape recorder? A muggle tape recorder?”

Draco looked down at the object in his hand with fondness. He had found the contraption on the floor at King’s Cross during his third-year voyage to Hogwarts. With it he had been able to record and listen back on all lectures, helping to earn him that second place spot.

“I told you, I don’t have a problem with muggles. Merlin knows some of their contraptions seemed to border on magic anyways.” He said with a shrug as he held out the recorder to her.

She took it tentatively and pressed the play button on the side of the small device. A soft crackling noise sounded before the clear sound of Voldemort’s voice echoed through the room. For a moment she felt as though she were back in his presence and a shiver ran down her spine, extenuating the headache.

“I thought we could listen to it together. I can answer more indirect questions about the plan, you just have to word them in a way that doesn’t relate exactly to what he talks about.”

Hermione nodded, dropping into the chair across from him and put the recorder on the wood between them. She pressed play again and listened in earnest as the entirety of the tape played through, hearing the next plan of attack against the order.

***

Several hours later, Hermione picked at the pills of lint on her sweater as the final minutes of the recording played out. Her ears hurt from the hours of listening to the slithering voice of Voldemort. Draco had gone back to his work an hour into the recording and Hermione had watched him. He was methodical with his constant scratching of quill against paper. Sheet by sheet he worked his way through the pile on his desk. If it wasn’t for the chaos running through her mind the recording, she would have inquired as to what he was doing.

Sighing, Draco raised his head to look at her, reaching over to turn the recording off. It was hard to be in the meetings in the first place, let alone listen to them again. But just like his Hogwarts’ lectures, new information always seemed to stand out a second time around.

“So..” He began, seeing her eyes raise to meet his.

“So.” She said shortly and met his eyes coldly. “A fucking hospital. Really, Malfoy?”

He knew she would take it like this. During the meeting he almost wondered if Voldemort had chosen this location just as another test of loyalty for their new healer. The makeshift hospital set up in south London had housed a large portion of the displaced patients from St. Mungos. Voldemort didn’t actually care about the hospital itself, they had plenty of stores of medical supplies, but it was the symbolism of it. The loss of hope, of a safe place, was motivation enough.

“Yes.” Draco said simply.

“A fucking hospital, Malfoy. Those are sick people!” She stood from her chair and ran her hands through her curly hair, making some pieces stick wildly out. “What possible threat could they be to him?”

She was almost tearing up in frustration. Her work, her life was dedicated to two things, healing the sick, and killing Voldemort. Working towards the later was driving her, but the first kept her sane. The first made her feel complete as a person, made her feel good about being able to help people.

“I think you already know that answer to that one.” Draco said, leaning back in his chair as he watched her standing near the window. He almost felt sorry for her, knowing how invested she was as a healer. Professionally, he held a high degree of respect for her.

She turned her head towards him and met his eyes strait on. “That’s all it takes? The prospect of a quick jab at the order is enough for him to attack sick, innocent people?”

“The prospect of hurting anything and anyone is enough for the Dark Lord.” Draco said quickly with a tilt of his head. “You know that.”

She slid her eyes away from him again and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll let he Order know. The date won’t change right?”

Draco shook his head. Once a date of attack was set, there was nothing that would change it. Voldemort called the planning of his escapades ‘visions’, like they came to him in some sort of divinitive dream. Draco suspected it was more like he woke up in the morning with an itch that needed to be scratched, and the more innocent lives lost, the better the relief.

Hermione started to leave the room, but Draco called out to her. “Granger.” His voice wasn’t loud, but the severe tone in it had her turning to look at him.

Her hand rested on the knob of the door, gripping it tightly as she guessed what he needed to say. “You know what your role in this is going to be right?” His grey eyes held hers as he stood from his chair and walked around the desk.

She felt tears prick her eyes again and blinked several times, willing them away. Yes, she knew what her role would be. And it went against everything of her being. Her role, was to stand by while the people she had sworn to protect and to heal, were murdered.

He took a few more steps towards her, stopping when he was only a foot away. She tilted her chin up to look at him and taking a deep breath, she nodded.

She could see the clenching of his jaw muscles. “You need to say it Granger, you need to be able to hold yourself together next week. Once slip will get you killed.”

She met his eyes directly and swallowed hard. “I know that. This is what I signed up for right?”

He dropped his eyes and nodded, putting his hand into his pocket and fingering the smooth wood of his wand. Yes, this is exactly what she had signed up for. He just had to make sure that she was going to stick with it.

“You can’t help the Order, Granger. Not even a twitch of your wand to protect them or the patients. You understand?”

“I said, I know. Please don’t treat me like I’m stupid, Malfoy. We both know that I’m not. I’m there to act as a healer for your side, not like I’ll be in the fighting anyways.” She said and started to turn from him, but his hand reached out and grabbed her forearm. She snapped her eyes back to him.

“You’re not stupid. But neither am I. And I know that if you were to come face to face with an order member you wouldn’t even think to raise your wand against them.” His fingers tightened on her arm, almost at the point of being painful. “You need to tell them that they better stay away from you during the fight, all of them. Because if you slip up, someone is going to notice. And then this will all have been for nothing.”

His hand dropped from her arm and he turned away from her, stalking back to his desk and tidying up the surface. Hermione watched him for a moment, anger filling her chest, before she left the room.

Back in her bedroom, she picked up the gold coin from the top of her nightstand.

_Attack in exactly one week. 23:00. South London hospital._

The coin glowed slightly as she relayed the message, holding it tightly in her arm as she went to stand by the large windows. The land surrounding Malfoy Manor really was quite beautiful, the large expanse of grassy yard flanked by tall hedges and a small pond. She could see the famous Malfoy peacocks wandering by the grass near the pond, their long beautiful tail feathers trailing behind them.

After a moment, she felt the coin heat lightly in her palm, signaling the reply.

_We'll be there. That’s disgusting._

She would have smiled at the small threat of contact, if Harry hadn’t been exactly correct. Sighing she threw the coin on her bed and slid down the wall, pulling her knees to her chest and rested her head to look out the window. It was harder being here than she had thought. Not just knowing that she would be leaving her morals in the dust, but the loneliness. After living in close quarters with the order for years, the isolation of the big house made her feel isolated.

Malfoy was not exactly good company, Hermione thought, her eyes following the slow, lazy path of the peacocks outside. He was a hard shell of a person, with brief, surprising flashes of humanity that made her feel almost sympathy for him. He had spent years, hiding himself behind a wall of stone in his mind. She doubted he would even know how to act like a normal human once this was all over. That is, if they made it out of here.

A knock on her door made her tear her gaze from the hypnotic movements outside. Sighing she pushed herself to her feet, padding across the ornate carpet to open the door.

“I told them—” Hermione started to say, halting her words immediately when she found that it wasn’t Malfoy standing outside of her door.

“Hm.” The woman at her door said, a slight smile playing across her thin lips. “Well at least now we know why Draco’s been so distracted lately.”

Hermione didn’t say anything. Instead she simply stared open mouthed at the bright purple clad witch in front of her, one she hadn’t seen in years.

“Aren’t you going to say hello, Granger?” The woman asked, raising the sharp, black line of the brows on her elfish face. “Thought you had more manners than this.” The thin lips curved up in a sharp grin at Hermione hesitance.

Hardening her features, Hermione gritted her teeth before replying. She was going to kill Malfoy. Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. “Parkinson. It’s been a while.”

Pansy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm curious, do people prefer a upload as I write strategy, or a weekly post? I'm open to either option :)


	11. Chapter 11

Over Pansy’s shoulder, Hermione met the sullen eyes of Malfoy and she gave him a hard look. All his talk about her keeping her shit together to make sure that they don’t get caught, and he leads Pansy Parkinson right to her. The returning look Draco gave her was as if he anticipated her anger at him. 

“So,” Pansy said, tilting her head so that the sharp line of her black hair scraped the angle of her chin. She looked more elegant and severe than she had in school, more like a bad-ass businesswoman than the fashionable teenager Hermione knew her as. Her eyes were so dark that they were almost black. Fitting, Hermione thought, remembering the insults she had suffered through. “You know, we always knew Draco had a crush on you in school, but this-“

Pansy must have seen the shock that crossed across Hermione’s face for the thin, black brows shot up, and a quick, devious smile flashed across her features. “Oh, you didn’t know. Hm, for the smartest witch of our age, you’re not very observant.”

Hermione didn’t let her eyes move from Pansy’s face but the tone of her voice was riling her, making her hands twitch towards her wand. She knew that the witch was only goading her, pushing her buttons to get a reaction. Pansy must have seen the veil fall over her face as she gave a short laugh.

“Tell me Granger, how’s it feel to betray the order? That is that what you’re really doing, isn’t it? Or-“ She turned her head to glance back at Draco with a raised brow. “Is the betrayal coming from somewhere else.”

“Pansy.” Draco said, his voice edged with warning.

She smiled and pursed her lips. “My, my.” She said, clicking her tongue at him. “We do have a problem.”

Hermione saw Draco’s jaw tense at her words and for a moment wondered what he would do to his friend.

“What do you want Parkinson?” Hermione interjected, hoping to draw the attention back to her before either Draco or the black-haired witch did something stupid.

“Want?” Pansy turned her attention back to Hermione, the slight grin on her lips stayed put as the mock surprise fell over her features. “I don’t want a thing Granger. In fact,” she glanced back at Malfoy again. “I could care less what the hell the two of you are planning. I’m sick of the war either way. All the good shopping spots have closed.” Her last words came out in a huff as she pushed past Hermione and strode into the room.

Hermione sent a bewildered glance at Draco, who merely shrugged his shoulders, before turning and following Pansy into the bedroom. The tall witch was walking slowly about the room, running her fingers across the various surfaces before casually flouncing onto the bed. She spread out on the silk comforter like a starfish and sighed contentedly. Hermione paused in her step at the action.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Hermione began, confusion completely muddling her senses as she stood a few feet from the bed, watching Pansy run her hands over the luxurious coverlet. “But what are you doing here?”

Draco had followed her into the room, and she felt suddenly uncomfortable having him in her room. Even though this wasn’t her home, she felt as though this was the only space she could be that held even the semblance of being safe.

Pansy closed her eyes and sighed, “I came to see my friend. Is that not alright with you, Granger? Didn’t realize you were head girl of the Manor.”

Hermione glanced again at Draco who had taken up residence leaning against the opposite wall next to the desk. He was not being helpful, Hermione thought sending what she hoped were daggered looks in his direction. He merely shrugged and turned his attention back to pansy.

“I could care less about you being here, but” She watched as Pansy propped herself up on her elbows and raised her brows at Hermione.

“But?” The brows of the witch on the bed were impossibly high.

“But, I am sure you can appreciate that certain things are… sensitive.” Hermione chose her words wisely. Parkinson could think what she wished, as long as she didn’t know the truth about why Hermione was truly here.

Pansy gave her an easy smile that made Hermione feel even more uncomfortable. “Calm down Granger. I’m not going to spoil your little game of house. Like I said, I could care less what the two of you are up to. I’m just sick of waiting for my friend to stop acting like an idiotic, distant fool before he gets himself killed.”

Hermione’s eyes caught Malfoy’s again, but he looked away quickly, instead letting his gaze casually wander the room.

“Godric you two are suffocating.” Pansy said, flopping back on the bed once more with an amount of drama that would have made Broadway drool. “Drakie, why don’t you go get us something to drink. I want some girl talk.” Pansy raised her hand in a shooing motion.

Hermione balked for a moment, wishing she could strangle Malfoy as he obediently pushed off the wall and went for the door. How dare he leave her alone with the sociopath who had incessantly teased her and made her feel inferior throughout her entire childhood. She wished she could send a hex at his retreating back, but figured it wasn’t very good manners for a guest. Gritting her teeth, she turned back to her bed, watching with annoyance as Pansy propped herself up on Hermione’s pillows, snuggling down in to them like a child.

The witch patted the mattress next to her with a devious smile. “I’m serious Granger. I want some girl talk.”

“Girl talk?” Hermione said doubtfully. Even so she tentatively made her way to the bed, standing at the edge before Pansy raised her brows at her. Sighing, she settled down on the bed, crossing her legs under her on the comforter as she faced Pansy.

“Yes. Girl talk.” Pansy said, leaning forward to emphasize her point. “You have no idea how bored I’ve been cooped up in my parent’s house since school. They sold their soul to flat-face the moment after the Hogwarts battle but won’t let me be involved in anything.”

“Sounds terrible.” Hermione said, unable to keep the bite from her voice.

Pansy flipped her short black hair back and met Hermione’s eye straight on. “No need for the attitude. Don’t think I don’t know how bloody easy I’ve got it.” Her voice was light but the tone underneath it was harsh.

Hermione held her gaze for a moment more, not seeing the point in arguing. She sighed and leaned back against one of the posts of the canopied bed. “So. Girl talk.”

The grin spread quickly across Pansy’s face and Hermione almost laughed as she wiggled her butt down against the mattress and sunk back on the pillows again. “Goody.” She said and spread her arms wide, indicating the room.

“What’s going on with you and Drakie?”

Hermione’s brows shot up; this wasn’t actually the girl talk she had expected. Coming from Parkinson, she had expected it to revolve around fashion and makeup and whatever else the tall, elfish witch was in to. However, she shouldn’t be surprised given that Pansy had shown up at the manor to find Draco living with his once sworn enemy.

“Nothing is going on between Malfoy and I.” Hermione said simply, wishing the man in question would reappear and save her from the interrogation.

Pansy snorted and met Hermione’s eyes. “Sure. And I’m the Queen of England.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “He is helping me out for a bit. I needed a place to stay for our project and he offered one of the many rooms in this mansion. That’s all there is.”

“Granger, you’ve got every reason to hate me, Draco as well. But here you are, living comfortably under his roof. I’m just trying to understand the motive behind it.” Pansy tilted her head at her with a little laugh. “And if you think this is just another room, you’re dead wrong.”

“I know it was supposed to be for his sister.”

“His sister? Sure. But did you also know that no one has been allowed in this room since Draco was seven? That even after his mother died and his father found lodging elsewhere, Draco hasn’t let a single person step foot in here. Trust me, I ran away for a bit last year to get a break from my parents. I got placed in a lovely little guest room down the hall.”

A noise at the door signaled the return of Draco who carried with him a bottle and three glasses. He stepped tentatively into the room, further encouraged by the bright smile Pansy had pasted on her face.

“Just think about it.” Pansy said with a quick, final glance to Hermione. “And you,” she turned her attention to Draco. “Get over here. Girl talk can include you as well.”

Malfoy rolled his eyes, “I don’t think I have the correct anatomy for that statement to hold true.” He handed each of them a glass. With a quick look to Hermione as if to ask permission, he perched hesitantly on the edge of the bed. He looked out of place here, the dark tailored shirt and pants were much to formal to be lounging on a bed. His posture was strait and severe, and he held his chin at an angle. Hermione would have laughed at the picture he portrayed if she wasn’t convinced it was just natural for him.

“It’s alright.” Hermione said, meeting his grey eyes, Pansy’s words still bothering her. “It’s your house after all.”

He inclined his head to her slightly and moved further onto the bed, slipping off his shoes so he didn’t scuff the bedspread. He settled in next to Pansy at the head of the bed who immediately scooted her butt closer to him.

“Ugh, I’ve missed this.” She said, dropping her head to Draco’s shoulder and closed her eyes.

Hermione watched the two of them, smiling slightly at the look of affection Draco had when he glanced down at Pansy’s head. She knew how close the two of them had been in school. From what she had heard, they had dated briefly during fifth year, but it didn’t last longer than the summer. However, it never seemed to phase their friendship, sort of like her and Ron, Hermione thought with a pang of longing for her friends. Draco looked up at her and caught her staring at him. Hermione didn’t look away, instead she gave him a small smile and held out her hand for the bottle he still held.

His lips twitched as he held it out to her. The liquid was bitter and burned her throat as she tossed back the alcohol. Pansy snorted at the look on Hermione’s face and laughed as she held out her own glass.

“Granger the prude can take a shot, Drakie. Can you believe it?” She shot Hermione a quick smile, tossing back the contents of her own glass with, Hermione observed with satisfaction, a slight cough and wheeze.

Draco’s lips twitched slightly in what Hermione was now interpreting as his usual smile. “Not much surprises me anymore Pans.” Draco said back, his eyes never leaving Hermione’s.

They drank and spoke casually for the next few hours, Pansy providing most of the conversation as she teased Draco with tales of their school days and beyond. Hermione found herself enjoying the time, laughing along with the two of them at the stories from the Slytherin common room. The alcohol was taking quick affect and she was soon sharing her own stories, surprising both the Slytherins with the crazy escapades she, Harry and Ron had been on.

“Wait a moment.” Draco said suddenly. His cheeks were flushed with his own portion of drink he had consumed and there was a slight lilt to his voice, almost cutting down the aristocratic accent. The smile across his face seemed genuine as he held up his hand and laughed slightly. Hermione felt warmed at the site, comforted almost that she wasn’t living with a cold, heartless, corpse of a man.

“You’re telling me,” Draco continued. “That Potter, the bloody witless wonder, defeated the Dark Lord when he was bloody eleven years old? With a fucking stone?”

Hermione laughed, seeing the genuine surprise pass over his face. “He’s not all that powerful, you know.”

Draco leaned back and took a swig directly from the bottle. “Who, Voldemort or Potter?”

“Neither.” Hermione said, shrugging the sweater she was wearing over her head, leaving her in the thin T-shirt she had underneath. The room had grown quite warm due to the combined effects of the alcohol with the fire that Kildy had set in the fire in the marble fireplace. Her cheeks felt warm as she ran a hand through her long hair, pulling it over her shoulder to twist it between her hands. “Neither of them is. Harry’s strong, don’t get me wrong, but he would give this all up in a heartbeat if he could. He hates the attention, hates the constant pressure. And Voldemort? He’s nothing but a shell that feeds on the fear of others.”

She blinked, surprised at her own words. Free speech was not a good currency in war time. Words could only be used to hurt people. She looked up suddenly to see both Draco and Pansy staring at her. The black-haired witch’s mouth was halfway open as her eyes widened.

“Fuck, Granger. Morbid much?” Pansy said before laughing.

It took a moment before Hermione was laughing too, reaching out to take the bottle from Malfoy bringing it to her lips as she shook her head. Pansy, however, couldn’t stop, taking in deep breaths as she snorted with laughter.

After a few seconds, Hermione looked over to Draco with an incredulous smile. He rolled his eyes at her and snapped his fingers in front of Pansy’s face.

“Hey! Snap out of it.”

She startled at his movement and turned her head to look at him. “Fuck you, Drakie.” She shoved at his shoulder and Draco let out a laugh, but Pansy was already turning to face Hermione again.

The witch seemed to consider her for a short moment before leaning back into the pillows with a sigh. She threw and arm across her eyes and put her other hand against Draco’s arm. Her words were slurred, and Hermione could tell she was on the verge of sleep. “You know Granger, you’re not that bad. I might keep you.”

Pansy laughed slightly to herself and then rolled onto her side, tucking her knees up and promptly fell asleep.

Draco snorted and shook his head, not entirely surprised at the action. “The highest compliment coming from Pansy, I assure you.” He said with a slight twitch of his lips. He sighed and tilted his head back against the headboard, closing his eyes for a moment.

“It’s sweet, you know.” Hermione said after a moment, observing his relaxed posture. He was mussed, she noted. His normally tidy, sleek hair was sticking up at all angles from the night of Pansy constantly ruffling it. The flush was still present in his cheeks and gave his usually pale skin a semblance of life.

“What?” Draco asked, his eyes still closed as his long fingers ran lazily over the neck of the almost empty bottle.

“You and Pansy.” Hermione stated simply, reaching over to take the bottle from him and finished the final drops of the burning alcohol.

Draco lifted his head and looked at her, the normally cold grey now felt like a liquid silver, swirling in the depths behind his long lashes. “Me and Pansy?”

“Mhm.” Hermione said, stretching her legs out in front of her, careful to not disturb the witch who was currently softly snoring against the pillows. It was strange to think that not more than six hours ago, Hermione would have counted Pansy as one of the enemy, and now here she was, sleeping on her pillow. “She really cares about you.”

Draco looked down at his sleeping friend with obvious fondness. She had been a constant in his life since school, always present when he needed her the most. Every time he had been forced to do something that made him hate himself, he had gone to her. Every time he had pulled his thoughts so deep within his mind that he couldn’t even remember who he was, he had gone to her. Which is why her words about him being distant had stung him earlier, knowing that she counted on him to be there as much as he counted on her.

“Once she latches on, it’s hard to make her let go. Sort of like a dog. Something I’m sure you’ll discover soon enough.” He said, turning his gaze back to Hermione. His face slowly lost all the previous humor and he looked at her with a tense expression. “I didn’t invite her over, just so you know. She just showed up.”

Hermione looked up at him in surprise. Finding Pansy at her door earlier today had been a shock to say the least, but she found she was even more surprised that she wasn’t upset about it. Not in the slightest. In fact, she had enjoyed the company of the other witch. Enjoyed even more the insight that it allowed her into Malfoy’s life.

“I never said you did.” Hermione said, tilting her head slightly at him. “Besides, she seems harmless.”

Draco snorted and closed his eyes again, rubbing at them with his hand. “She is. Completely. Though I’m not sure you’ll still feel the same when she shows up at your flat in the middle of the night, crying about how Theo fucked some other witch again.”

Hermione’s brows shot up and Draco’s eyes popped open, realizing what he had just said. The flush in his cheeks deepened slightly and he met her eyes. “Sorry, that was maybe too personal.”

The look on his face was almost sheepish and made Hermione laugh. “No, it’s alright. I’m sure it’s only too similar listening to Ron whine all night about how Lavender keeps teasing him.”

“Lavender?” Draco said, his brows drawing together as he went over her words. “Why would the Weasel be pining over his sixth-year girlfriend when the two of you are together?”

If she hadn’t heard it a million times from everyone she had ever met after the war, she would have been annoyed at the assumption. Sighing, she shook her head. “Ron and I are not together. Never really have been.”

“But..” Draco began, the confusion still evident on his face.

“We’re about as much together as you and Pansy are.” Hermione said bluntly, meeting his eyes directly. “Ron and I are friends, nothing more. Besides, it’s not like a relationship would actually last during the war anyways.”

Draco watched as she rubbed her fingers against her temples, as if fighting back dark memories. “What do you mean?”

She glanced up at him but lowered her gaze with a shrug. “I mean, this war is doing great things for tearing people apart. Honestly, who do you know that are in a successful relationship? Your Death Eater friends seem only more focused on fucking everyone close to them whenever they have the chance.”

He raised his brows at her language and she shrugged. He knew the lewd escapades down in the cave wouldn’t escape her notice and he felt momentarily embarrassed for the way that he had been living. Not that he ever partook in such activities himself, but he had seen enough over the years to be rather desensitized to the site.

“Well, as you have pointed out on multiple occasions, the order is better at everything. Surely it’s members are more than capable of keeping a simple relationship going. Look at Potter and the Weaslette.”

Hermione huffed out a breath, pulling her knees closer to her chest as she looked down at the swirling green designs on her socks “The Order really isn’t much better, you know.”

“They fuck everyone in sight as well?” Draco asked, the taunting tone in his voice made her shoot him a sharp look and he smirked back.

“No. It’s not like that there. But,” she sighed and leaned her head back. “We’re losing. You know that just as well as I do. People find comfort in any way that they can, thinking that it could be their last opportunity to do so. It’s an escape.”

He watched as a memory seemed to wash over her face. It was moments like these when he wished he could use occlumency to see her thoughts, to see what had caused her face to shift expressions, what had caused the sudden change in her mood. But he had more consideration than to just barge in on her thoughts. He wasn’t Voldemort, he told himself.

“Do you escape often?” He asked her softly, feeling the weight of her words falling on a more personal level than he assumed she had intended.

Her eyes snapped back to his and he thought he saw the slight tinge of pink wash over her cheeks. “That’s not really any of your business.” She said, her tone cooler than it had been moments ago.

He dropped his gaze and ran a hand though his hair. Hermione noted the action and furrowed her brows, immediately regretting her snappish tone. “Look, Malfoy…” She started to apologize but stopped when he caught her eye. The corner of his mouth twitched.

“It’s alright. I was a bit out of line.”

Hermione smiled slightly and nodded. It was odd sitting here with him having the semblance of a civil conversation. During school they didn’t say more than two words to each other at a time unless it was insults. Then they hadn’t spoken in the four years since the Hogwarts Battle and Draco Malfoy had been the last thing on her mind. And now, here they sat, on her bed with a snoring, drunk witch across from them, having a conversation like they were actually friends. They weren’t, Hermione reminded herself. They were two people, fighting towards a common goal.

With a sigh, Draco rubbed his eyes again and slid off of the bed, swaying slightly as he readjusted to being vertical. “I can move her into a different room if you’d like?” He said gesturing towards Pansy. He glanced back at Hermione who was watching his every move with a wary look in her eyes.

“Umm..” Hermione furrowed her brows as she regarded the witch, trying to determine how much of a threat she was. Pansy, while one of Hermione’s childhood bully’s, was nothing more than a lonely girl. She shook her head finally. “No, it’s fine. The bed is plenty big.”

Draco nodded and made his way to the door, sending a flick of magic over to douse the fire which immediately sent the room into darkness. He paused at the doorway, “I’m sorry if I crossed any boundaries.” He said, looking over in her direction. Even drunk he was trying to be a gentleman. 

“You did.” Hermione said simply.

He swallowed and nodded, knowing that his comments earlier weren’t likely to be forgotten soon. Honestly, the thought of Granger seeking comfort in someone else’s arms irked him a bit more than he liked, especially now knowing that she and the Weasel weren’t together. He rubbed his hand at his temple, trying to banish the thoughts as well as the throbbing headache. Halfway out the door Hermione called out to him.

“Malfoy wait,” she said, running with the liquid courage that still coursed through her veins. He turned back to her and she could barely make out his features in the darkness. She paused a moment, hoping he couldn’t see her grin. “Did you really have a crush on me?”

He paused and took a deep breath, wishing all at once that Pansy had never shown up here. “I don’t really think that’s any of your business.” He said, echoing her words from earlier.

He left before he heard the soft sound of laughter coming from Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter and the introduction of Pansy was really just for fun :) I love the thought of her and Hermione as friends. As a side note, I never cared much for the Dramione stories where they just argued all the way up until they suddenly discovered they had feelings for eachother. My goal is to try and develop their relationship a little bit more before I push them together.   
> As always, I love to hear your guys comments and feedback!


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning Hermione woke feeling surprisingly refreshed. She had woken next to a still snoring Pansy who had a small line of drool trailing from her mouth that made Hermione want to erupt with laughter. Instead she bit her lip and slid off the other side of the bed, grateful that the slight movement didn’t wake the other witch.

She showered quickly and was in the closet getting dressed when Pansy stumbled into the room. Hermione clutched the shirt she was holding to her chest at Pansy’s entrance, effectively covering up her practical navy blue bra.

Pansy snorted at Hermione’s movement, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Relax Granger. There’s only one person in this house who cares about seeing your tits and it isn’t me.”

The casual way she said it made Hermione flush. It would have been better if she had been snarky or even teasing about it, then at least Hermione would have felt like there wasn’t a semblance of truth behind it. Pansy started ruffling through the clothes that had been stuck on the hangers since Hermione had moved in. It was odd that there were all of these clothes here, Hermione thought for what felt like the hundredth time. Especially given that she couldn’t imagine Malfoy’s mother buying clothes for a daughter that had never actually existed.

She saw Pansy send a critical look her way, sweeping her eyes over the jeans and worn long-sleeve T-shirt that Hermione wore.

“Why in Merlin’s name are you wearing that when you have all of these lovely things to pick from?” Now there was an underlying tone of snark in her words. The wrinkle of Pansy’s nose accentuated the point and Hermione raised her brows at her. 

“Those aren’t mine.” Hermione said, shrugging her shoulders as she went back to getting ready, pulling her hair into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. A few errant strands escaped and curled about her face but Hermione was past the point of trying to control her hair. Looking over, she saw that Pansy was still flipping through the hanging garments as though she were in a store shopping for a new outfit. It was odd swapping what one would call pleasantries with the black-haired witch.

Without saying anything, Pansy pulled one of the hangers down from the rack to hold the garment in front of her. It was a lovely navy-blue silk dress that looked so soft that Hermione’s fingers itched to feel it. Pansy swayed her hips a bit and ran her hand down the smooth fabric of the dress.

“I think this would look lovely on you.” Pansy said, eyeing Hermione with a grin.

Hermione rolled her eyes again and headed towards the door. “I told you, they aren’t mine.”

She could all but feel the distain Pansy sent her way as Hermione left the room. They weren’t friends, Hermione reminded herself. She didn’t owe anything to the other witch. She was here for one reason only and it certainly wasn’t to be have a get together with the woman who had contributed heavily to her childhood bullying.

Hermione made her way down the hallway, ignoring the closed door of Draco’s bedroom. After last night, she felt awkward at the prospect of encountering him again, especially before she had had her first cup of coffee.

The kitchen was just as immaculate as usual and blessedly empty. Starting to become familiar with her surroundings, Hermione started the preparations for the brew, enjoying the tantalizing scents that met her nose when the liquid started to boil. The sun was shining in through the windows of the kitchen and Hermione sighed, annoyed that she couldn’t leave the house for fear that the Malfoy’s groundkeepers would see her. Other than the battles and supply raids, the order members were for the most part cooped up in the various safe houses around Great Britain.

Hermione leaned against the windowsill and enjoyed the feel of the warm sunlight on her face, closing her eyes briefly as she imagined she were in the fields surrounding the Burrow. Summers at the Burrow were among some of her favorite memories. Before the events of the previous year when the war started to consume their every thought and action, Hermione had spent the time between her trainings at the hospital at the Weasley’s family house. They were her only family now and Hermione felt a pang in her heart for the people that she had lost.

Normally she tried to push all thoughts of her parents to the recesses of her mind, knowing that if she were to allow those memories to surface, she wouldn’t be able to function. She missed them, more than she had ever thought possible. Their death had come as a crushing blow a few months after the Hogwarts Battle. Knowing that it wasn’t safe to bring them back from Australia, Hermione had found them to make sure that the memory spell she had used on them was holding up.

Instead of finding her parents safe in the small oceanside town of Australia they had moved to, she had instead found the charred remnants of their house, without any signs of the Grangers. If Harry hadn’t have been there with her, she would have given up then and there, curling up within the ashes. She owed Harry so much, Hermione reflected. They never did find out what happened to her parents, could only assume that Voldemort’s followers had found them and punished them for Hermione’s role in the war effort. The thought made her feel nauseous knowing that her parents would have had absolutely no clue what the attack was for. They didn’t even know they had a daughter.

The kettle on the stove started to whistle, interrupting her thoughts and Hermione sighed, once again pushing the memories of her parents to their spot at the back of her mind. The coffee was bitter and hot, sending a shock through her system that she relished. She found her way back to the window and enjoyed the brew with the view, pretending for a moment that this was just another normal morning for her.

Footsteps coming down the stairs into the kitchen alerted her to a visitor and she turned her head and watched as Malfoy entered the kitchen. He looked tired, Hermione noted. She knew he didn’t sleep well, had woke often over the past week to hear him walking down the hallway. On many occasions she had caught herself before asking what bothered him during the night. That wasn’t why she was here.

Malfoy met her eyes across the room and nodded to her. He sniffed at the air and as if on autopilot, automatically approached the kettle on the stove.

“May I?” He asked, raising his brows in question as he indicated the pot.

Hermione nodded and turned back to the window, seeing him pull a mug down from one of the white cabinets out of the corner of her eye.

The harsh click of heels against the marble tile alerted the both of them to the imminent arrival of Pansy and Hermione thought she heard Malfoy groan. She sent a quick glance his way and found that he was leaning against the large expanse of the island counter in the middle of the kitchen, nose buried so far in his cup he almost needed a snorkel.

“Morning!” Came Pansy’s sing-song voice as she entered the kitchen. Hermione wasn’t quite sure how she could have such a large smile across her face given how much liquor she had consumed last night.

The witch flounced into the kitchen and Hermione immediately noticed that she was wearing the dark blue dress she had pulled out of the closet earlier. Pansy gave a slight twirl noticing Hermione’s look of surprise. “Told you it would look nice.”

Draco glanced up at his friend’s movements and shook his head. “Helping yourself Pans?”

Pansy turned her attention to him and shrugged, a grin spread wide across her face as she ran her hands over the smooth fabric covering her hips. “Lovely things like this should be worn, Draco. They aren’t doing any good waiting up there in the dust.”

Draco rolled his eyes and took another long sip of his coffee. “They’re up there for Granger’s use, not for you to play dress up.”

Hermione’s brows shot up at this and she turned her head quickly to look at him. “What do you mean they’re for me? They’re not mine.”

He didn’t bother to look at her, instead made his way to the icebox and started rummaging through it. “I didn’t think the wardrobe you find suitable for the order would exactly fit in well with the Dark Lords aesthetic. So, I had an assortment of things purchased for you.” His tone was casual and for some reason it irked her.

Hermione had almost forgot Pansy was in the room as she stepped forward and placed her almost empty mug on the coffee. “You bought clothes for me?”

“That’s what I said.” Malfoy said as he turned from the fridge and set the small tub of what appeared to be yogurt on the counter. He still didn’t meet her eyes and Hermione felt annoyance and confusion bubble up within her.

“How did you even know my sizes?”

Malfoy’s grey eyes rose slowly up to meet hers and before he could answer there came a massive sigh from Pansy. They looked over to the tall witch who was picking at her cuticles across the kitchen. Seeing that the attention was back on her, Pansy raised her brows at Hermione.

“You just got a free wardrobe, Granger. Enjoy it.”

While it was meant in a semi-friendly way, Hermione felt somewhat insulted at her words. “I don’t need a free wardrobe. This isn’t a game of house no matter what you think Parkinson. This is actually quite a serious matter that you just happened to waltz in on because you were _bored._ You have no idea what is going on, the seriousness of it.”

Hermione looked incredulously between the two others in the kitchen and shook her head. Whatever jovial time they had had the evening before was quickly forgotten and Hermione once again felt her guard come up against the former Slytherins.

Pansy looked taken aback at her words and sent a quick glance at Draco who was still watching Hermione. He regarded her for a moment before dropping his gaze with a sigh. “She’s right Pans.” He said, shocking both Hermione and Pansy.

“What?” The black-haired witch said incredulously, her brows raised sky high.

“I said she’s right. This isn’t a game to anyone here.” He turned to Hermione again. “I’m sorry that I didn’t mention the clothes. It was purely out of wanting you not to stand out among the Dark Lord’s ranks. As you’ve seen, people dress quite differently down there than they do in the real world.”

Hermione paused for a moment and blinked at him, surprised at both him taking her side but also his apology. “It’s not the clothes I’m upset about, it’s the implication.” She said, flicking her eyes back to Pansy.

The other witch made a noise of annoyance and glared between the two others. “Well excuse me for wanting to have a bit of fun. Don’t treat me like I’m so ignorant that I don’t understand what is happening here. Draco you’re betraying your people in order to help this mudblood, you realize that right?”

The vile word that now hung into the air didn’t even bother Hermione anymore, having heard it flung her way enumerable times over the past several years.

Pansy’s arms were perched on her hips and Hermione could bet that if it were possible, steam would be streaming from her ears as she continued to glare at Draco.

“You don’t get to use that word in my house.” Draco said, his voice icy and even.

Pansy raised her brows at his tone and chuckled. “Dear Drakie. That word was practically invented within these walls.”

Hermione’s fingers itched to run over the prominent thin white scars on her left forearm. The word in question stood out even against her pale skin, having been carved deeply into her with a cursed knife. _Within these walls_ … Pansy’s words echoed through her mind and Hermione couldn’t help but remember exactly where they were, what she had suffered here.

The glare that Malfoy sent in Pansy’s direction would be enough to make anyone tuck tail and run, but the black-haired witch stood defiantly staring back at him. She placed her hands on her hips and tilted her head. Oddly enough the gesture reminded Hermione of what her mother used to do when she had gotten in trouble when she was younger.

“You’ve called her that for years.” Pansy said, annoyance and anger edging her voice. It was as if the two of them had forgotten that Hermione was also in the room. “For years, Draco. And now suddenly your so opposed to it? What the hell has gotten into you?”

Draco clenched his jaw but otherwise did not show any expression on his face. “If you can’t abide by the rules I have in place here, then you can leave.” His voice was flat, but Hermione winced internally at his words, not able to fathom having to send one of her own friends away.

“It’s alright.” Hermione spoke up, alerting the two others to her presence once again. “The word doesn’t mean much to me anymore.” Though she said it, she still sent a hard look at Pansy.

“It’s not about the word.” Draco said echoing Hermione’s earlier sentiment about the wardrobe, his gaze ever leaving Pansy’s face.

Hermione furrowed her brows, wondering what else it could possibly be about. After a moment, Hermione sighed and made her way around the island counter to the stairs. “I’ll leave you to it then.” She said, ascending the stairs, not bothering to wait for a reply.

The word truly hadn’t bothered her, but she still felt a small sting knowing that it had come from the woman who had not hours ago spoken to Hermione like they were old friends. They had laughed together, teased Malfoy together, bloody hell they had slept the entire night in the same bed together. Hermione sighed; she would always be nothing but a mudblood to some people.

She made her way to the library, trying to ignore the slight gnawing of hunger in her stomach as it protested drinking coffee without any breakfast. The room really was massive and she had been making her way from shelf to shelf all week, trying to decide which books she could use to pass her time.

It had only been minutes since she had settled into one of the large armchairs with a book of alchemy settled on her lap, when Pansy waltzed in. Hermione noticed her movements over the top of the book and mentally sighed, closing her eyes for a brief moment. She didn’t bother looking up from the book when she opened her eyes again. While she didn’t mind the word, she had different opinions about the witch who had said it.

Pansy stood a few feet from her, chewing on her thin bottom lip. After several awkward, silent minutes, the witch sighed and dropped into the armchair across from Hermione. She stayed silent and Hermione was determined not to make the first move.

“You are infuriating.” Pansy said, finally leaning forward to snatch the book out of Hermione’s hands.

“Hey!” Hermione protested, reaching out to try and grab the book back. When Pansy held it out of her reach with a raise of her brows, Hermione settled back in her chair with an expectant look at the witch.

“Is there anything else you do besides read?” Pansy said, glancing at the book in her hand with disgust.

Hermione tilted her head with a slight, hard smile. “Is a matter of fact, yes. I work as a healer, I spend time with friends who love me and, oh yeah, I fight for the order.”

Pansy rolled her eyes but Hermione saw a slight grin slip twitch at the corner of her mouth. It must be a Slytherin thing, Hermione thought briefly. “Yes, we know. Perfect Hermione Granger can do no wrong.”

This irked Hermione and she let out an annoyed sigh, swinging her legs around to sit fully upright in her chair. “You’re right, Parkinson. How dare I fight for people to have the right to live freely. I think we should just quit and let Voldemort win, don’t you?”

She didn’t miss the slight flinch at the mention of Voldemort and narrowed her eyes at Pansy. She huffed out a breath and shook her head. “Who are you trying to fool?”

Pansy narrowed her eyes at Hermione. “Excuse me?”

With a slight laugh, Hermione shook her head again. “Honestly. You show up here whining about how absolutely miserable you are trapped in your rich parent’s mansion. Then you insult me even though I’m the only one of the two of us actually doing something to finish this stupid war.”

Hermione met the dark eyes of the now fuming witch across from her. “You’re scared.” She said simply, holding up her hand when Pansy started to protest. “You are. You flinch at Voldemort’s name, you check in with Malfoy when you haven’t heard from him in a week, you run away from the safety of your parent’s house just to make sure that he’s still alive. You’re scared, but even that isn’t enough to convince you to fight for the right thing.”

Pansy stared at her for several moments, the muscle in her cheek working as she clenched her jaw. Hermione leaned back in her chair, waiting patiently for the other witch to gather her senses.

“I’m not scared.” Pansy said finally, crossing her arms tightly over her blue silk covered chest.

Hermione raised her brows and Pansy met her eyes defiantly. “I’m not. I’m terrified. I’m bloody terrified that while I’m waiting safely away for everything to end, the world that I know, my friends, my family, will all be destroyed. I’m terrified that when I finally get up the nerve to leave, I’ll walk out my front door and find that there is nothing left for me. That everything that I could possibly have to fight for won’t exist. And then what? What good is my help going to do anyone.”

This wasn’t the answer she had expected, Hermione thought, especially not from the witch who she had always viewed as the toughest, hardest girl out there. Pansy had always been the first in the Slytherin group to start ridiculing Hermione and her friends during school, the first to stand forward and demand that they turn Harry over before the Battle of Hogwarts. Hermione had never liked her, never even felt the slightest bit of sympathy for her like she had for Malfoy.

“I don’t think you’re a mudblood.”

The statement was so unexpected that Hermione could barely keep the shocked look off of her face as she looked at Pansy.

“I don’t, at least not in the insulting form of the word. We all know you’re muggle-born.” Pansy said, tilting her head defiantly at Hermione.

“Um, thanks?” Hermione said tentatively.

Pansy smirked at her. Clearly the conversation was at it’s end and both women recognized it. It was odd, in the entire twelve years that they had known each other, this was the most either of them had spoken to the other. They weren’t friends, Hermione reminded herself, not even close to it. But it felt like they had reached an understanding.

“You and Draco are trying to kill the Dark Lord, aren’t you?” Pansy said after a few minutes of silence. She had leaned back in her chair and cross her legs, examining her pristinely manicured fingernails as she spoke.

It was a hard thing to admit to her. Hermione had spent do much of her life hiding her involvement in the war effort in order to protect herself and her cause. After the Battle of Hogwarts, while the general public voiced their support for the order, the moral quickly fell and loyalties turned to whichever side would keep them alive. The order members were not only fighting against Voldemort, but also much of the wizarding community who had since turned their support to the snake.

“Yes.” Hermione said simply, not wanting to go into further detail about their plans.

Pansy seemed to consider this for a moment, her eyes cast downwards. Finally, she looked back to Hermione and nodded. “Good.”

The simple word surprised Hermione more than she had ever thought. It meant more than just an act of agreement it signified the direction that Pansy had placed her loyalty, the side that she had chosen. And even thought here hadn’t been any spells cast, any casualties reported, it felt to Hermione like a small battle had just been won.

***

An hour later, Pansy enthusiastically kissed Hermione’s cheek as they stood in the front entrance of Malfoy Manor. “I’ll be seeing you again soon, Granger.” She said, pulling back with a mischievous grin across her face.

Hermione didn’t know whether to take the words as a threat or a promise but smiled regardless. After everything, she found that she enjoyed Pansy’s company. It was a nice distraction to the brooding silence that Malfoy offered. Plus, her presence seemed to open Malfoy up more, make him appear more human. She was oddly sad to see that the witch was leaving.

Malfoy gave Pansy a quick hug, running a hand affectionately over her short black hair when they pulled apart. “Your parents are going to be upset.” He said simply.

Pansy shrugged. “Yes. But then again when are they not?”

Malfoy tilted his head at her, and she gave him a quick smile, patting his cheek affectionately. “You worry too much Drakie. Remember, I’m their precious baby girl. What could they possibly do to me? It’s not like they can ground me remember?”

Malfoy rolled his eyes and stepped back from her, holding the door open like the gentleman he was raised to be. Pansy all but skipped out and Hermione and Malfoy watched as she made her way down the walkway towards the large wrought iron gates where the apparition shields ended.

“She seems nice.” Hermione said a few moments after the witch disappeared into thin air.

She could see the look that Malfoy shot her out of the corner of her eye and struggled to keep a grin off her face. He shook his head at her and turned away from the door, striding back into the expanse of the hall before them.

“I apologize again for her showing up here.” Malfoy said as he paused in his leave, looking over his shoulder back at Hermione.

She was still at the door but turned to look at him. Though he had apologized for his friends presence the night before, this one felt different. It was as if he were apologizing for more than just Pansy showing up unexpectedly. “I know.” Hermione said, furrowing her brows a bit.

“She’s just like that,” Malfoy continued as if he hadn’t heard her. “Always has been. She’s never able to mind her own business, just shows up during the most inconvenient times.”

“Malfoy.” Hermione said more forcefully, expecting that if she didn’t speak up, he would continue to ramble. His grey eyes met hers immediately and she gave him a slight smile. “I know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, I do believe that is enough for filler chapters for now, time for the action to start :) Stay tuned!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks everyone for the comments thus far! They make me feel all warm and fuzzy :) Keep them coming! I love hearing your thoughts and suggestions for what you want to see

“It’s time.” Draco said suddenly, raising his head to look at Hermione as the hot flash of pain shot through the dark mark on his arm. The sensation was so familiar to Draco that he barely felt it anymore, though he was conditioned immediately to be on guard when it occurred. Some article he had read about dogs and bells slipped through his mind and he frowned at the thought.

They had been waiting all evening for Voldemort’s plans to be put into motion. Sitting in his study they had passed the majority of the early hours of the evening in silence, neither of them feeling steady enough to start a conversation. He had attempted to work on the documents in front of him that would allow for the order of necessary potion ingredients, but his thoughts blocked any information from processing.

Hermione had taken advantage of the wardrobe finally, Draco noticed when she had first entered his study that evening, letting his eyes take in the black ensemble she was wearing. Healers were never required to wear the robes that the Death Eaters were, thinking that it would restrict their movements on the field. Instead, she wore tight, black leggings that allowed her to move freely and a snug black jacket, zipped to her throat. Her curly hair was pulled back into a knot at the base of her neck, it would soon transform into the black, strait hair of her disguise.

She looked up at his words and he saw her mentally steel herself, pushing everything that was vulnerable behind the mental blockade she had impressively built. Reaching into her pocket, Draco watched as she pulled out the thin gold band and slipped it on her finger. Immediately her features shifted into that of Olivia Raneire. He still wasn’t sure where the name had come from, something that sounded familiar in his past, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. Regardless, it suited the sharp angles of the disguised face and the harsh stare of the deep blue eyes.

The painful heat in his arm was growing more intense and Draco stepped towards her, eager to get to the caves so the pain would cease. He could sense her nerves from across the room. Her hands were clenched as if she were trying to keep them from shaking. Reaching out he instinctively gripped one of then in his, feeling it relax slightly under his touch as her fingers gripped him back.

“Ready?” He asked, raising a brow at her, hoping that his voice was casual enough to calm her.

The fear in her eyes was unmistakable but just as soon as he noticed it, it was gone, hidden behind the impenetrable wall of her mind. She nodded and tightened her grip on his hand. “No.”

He almost started to laugh at the contradiction of her words and her actions. Of course she would be completely honest with him in this moment. Nodding, he turned on his heel, pulling her into the quick darkness before landing in the cave.

They hadn’t been told much about the attack on the makeshift hospital, only that it had been deemed necessary by the Dark Lord. Even during the strategic planning meetings that Draco had attended over the past week there hadn’t been any definite plans made. He knew better than to think that the attack was necessary by any means other than the fact that the Dark Lord was bored and he fed off of the fear of others.

Hermione had been able to pass very little information back to the order given the lack of actual plans made within the snake pit, much to the frustration of the members on the other end of the coin. Draco could tell that she was getting frustrated with the waiting and knew that she would normally be spending her time with the order, prepping and planning for attacks such as these. But he also knew that without her linking the two sides, they would have very little warning, if any, about the attack on the hospital, let alone an entire week.

Due to their warning system, the order had been able to persuade the few staff members working at the hospital to transfer as many patients as possible to the Burrow’s hospital. They couldn’t evacuate everyone as it would tip Voldemort off that the order had been warned. The patients and staff that were still present at the hospital had been deemed strong enough to fight and therefore were asked to remain in place.

Draco had spent a good portion of the evening reminding Granger over and over again that she had to make sure that the only people she helped tonight were from Voldemort’s side. He knew that given her loyalties to the order, her first instincts would be to help them, help her friends and family. She had argued with him for several minutes after his fifth and final warning.

“I’m not stupid, Malfoy. I know that helping the order would only get us killed. Besides there are several medi-witches they recruited to help out with field triage in my absence, not to mention the actual healers working in the hospital. Stop pestering me, I know my job.”

Her voice had been so stern as she glared at him that he finally believed her, trusted her not to blow their cover and get them killed. The order had been warned about what Hermione’s disguise looks like, something that Draco had reminded her of at the last minute. It wouldn’t do any good if the order attacked their own double agent.

The cave itself was rustling with anticipation; Draco could almost feel the electricity of it radiating off of his skin. Voldemort wasn’t the only one that had been bored, he observed silently as he scanned the room. Robed figures were busy pulling on masks and shooting spells as the cave walls, their wands sparking with the pent-up magic excitement brought on.

The Dark Lord was standing at the head of the cave, a sickeningly gleeful grin spread over his face as he observed his flock. Draco quickly checked his occlumency shields before stepping forward towards his master. Hermione followed closely at his elbow but strayed away slightly as they approached. The Dark Lord neither cared nor knew where people spent their time outside of his services, as long as they were always at attendance when he called. But Draco knew how dangerous it was to show any sort of connection to another member, it could only be used against you.

Another flash of silvery blond hair caught Draco’s eye and he paused in his advance towards his spot at the side of the Dark Lord. His father was standing only feet from him, and a sickly feeling swept over Draco when Lucian’s eyes stayed fixed on the witch that Draco had appeared with. He couldn’t know, Draco thought.

After a few moments, he let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding when Lucian’s eyes finally slid past Hermione and he pulled his mask over his face.

For what was probably the millionth time in the past few years, Draco wished that it had been his father that had been killed instead of his mother. Admitting it to anyone else would make him a terrible person, but he didn’t feel guilty in the slightest. Lucian had only been too eager to sell out his wife for her role in Potter still being alive after the Battle of Hogwarts. It filled Draco with cold rage thinking of how Lucian had stood by, emotionless, while Narcissa had been tortured and brutally executed by her own sister when her lies had been discovered.

She had known it would happen, Draco reflected. Had known that if the order failed then her life would be forfeit. It had been a risk she was more than willing to take if it protected Draco. That was what he felt guilty about. Not that he hated his father or wished him dead, but that his mother’s actions had all been in vain. He was still immersed in the workings of the Dark Lord. He had still tainted his soul performing unspeakable acts on others. He had failed her.

A sharp elbow nudged his ribs, pulling him from the recesses of his mind and back to his present situation. Blinking he looked down into the deep blue eyes of the short witch standing next to him. For the briefest of moments, he didn’t recognize her. Then with a slight tilt of her head, the world came crashing back to him.

He could all but hear the questions flooding Hermione’s mind and was incredibly grateful that her disguise’s face didn’t easily show emotion. He gave her a quick nod before continuing to make his way through the tightly packed crowd to Voldemort, leaving her behind him. He couldn’t handle dealing with her, not right now.

When he reached the front of the crowd, Voldemort’s red eyes met his. How he had become one of the trusted members of the inner council, Draco never understood. After his mother’s death, Draco had been interrogated for what felt like weeks. Held captive in the darkness of the caves and was intermittently tortured in attempts to find where his true loyalties lay. His only loyalties during that time had died with his mother.

When the torture had finally ended, Draco found himself being called into the Dark Lord’s presence more and more. At first, he thought it was just another way for them to keep an eye on him, make sure that he was truly with him. But after a while, he found that he was granted greater responsibility within the movement, greater chance for command. He was trusted with overseeing the potion lab which soon became his main job, utilizing the mastery he had obtained in his free time to brew and distribute an assortment of potions throughout the country.

“My friends.” Voldemort’s voice hissed out. The cave fell quiet as the hundred plus people gathered focused their attention obediently on their master.

The dim green light of the cave cast a glow over Voldemort that made the scaly skin of his face appear even more corpse-like. The red eyes flicked about the room, not bothering to rest long enough on anyone.

“You have been called to serve.” He spoke again and with his words several excited cries went up around the cave. Draco wanted to roll his eyes at the idiotic few that thought vocalized signs of support would gain them any favor with the Dark Lord. This wasn’t a quidditch match where the teams fed off the energy from the crowd. Voldemort preferred the fearful obedience of the silent.

It was all he had to say to begin the attack, Draco noted. Everyone knew the location, and damage and destruction were so far ingrained into them by now that they didn’t need direction of what to do when they got there. The first few cracks of apparition sounded and suddenly set off the rest, soon the cave sounded like it was full of fireworks as the group disappeared.

He noticed out of the corner of his eye that Hermione was one of the last ones to apparate away and her blue gaze cast a quick glance at him before she disappeared. He wanted to follow her immediately, make sure that she didn’t do anything to jeopardize their position, make sure she didn’t get herself killed. He waited a moment more though, getting a nod from Voldemort before following the rest of the group.

The fight was already underway when Draco felt his feet touch down on the hard concrete surrounding the makeshift hospital. He was thankful it was dark as it gave him a moment to orient himself before striding forward into the battle. Flashes of light made him squint as Death Eaters swarmed the compound. Shouts and yelling filled the air and Draco strode purposefully forward. He expected the order to be there and therefore was unsurprised at their presence, but he knew that the Order had an advantage over them because of their quick arrival.

He let the calm, emotionless state that got him through battles fall over him once again. Catching sight of an order member rushing towards him with wand held high, Draco shot a quick stunning spell at them, dropping them to the hard ground. They had all agreed that the order members wouldn’t attack Draco with anything stronger than stinging or stunning spells, and Draco would do the same.

He entered the small, ramshackle building that served as the hospital. The room was a mess when he entered, beds overturned, broken glass of potion vials scattered the concrete floor. To know that this was the only option to treat sick people under Voldemort’s rule was horrifying. St. Mungos had been a beacon of health and hope in the wizarding world, and now that was reduced to a shed in the worst part of London.

The front line of the battle between the Order and Death eaters was only several yards away and Draco moved towards it almost on auto pilot. His wand was held raised in his hand and he joined his comrades in their efforts.

A shot of bright blue light barely skimmed his check and he whipped his head around to look at the person who had sent it his way. It was the Weaslette he saw, and she had a harsh grin on her face. He narrowed his eyes at her, and she shrugged before turning her attention to another Death Eater who approached on Draco’s right side.

Several minutes passed by, the chaos of the fight taking over Draco’s mind as he instinctively fought against the very people he was trying to help. He hadn’t seen Hermione since the beginning of the battle, hoping that she was staying out of the thick of it and doing her job for the wounded along the edges. The concern for her safety surprised him but he reminded himself that it came from concern for his own life and that of their mission, nothing more.

He moved along the line, putting down order members as he went. The less they fought, the less they would lose, Draco reminded himself as he dropped another to the floor. It had to be less than an hour at this point since they had initially arrived, and Draco could feel the drops of sweat sliding down his back and chest under the heavy Death Eater robes. He had forgone his mask tonight, not taking the chance that someone from the Order wouldn’t recognize him.

A stinging jinx hit him squarely in the chest and he felt the breath go out of him. Glaring he whipped his head up to his attacker and grimaced when he saw that it was Weasley. Draco gritted his teeth as he raised his wand, hoping Ron would understand the level of skill that Draco possessed, the amount of pain he could inflict.

Obviously not. The Weasley rose to the challenge, bringing his own wand up and threw hex after hex at Draco. It didn’t seem to matter to Ron that Draco was on their side, the concentrated smirk on his face showed Draco that he was definitely enjoying him.

Ron was a sloppy dueler and he missed a beat in sending a jinx at Draco, who took the opportunity and sent a stunning spell at him. The redhead hit the floor with a thud and Draco shook his head at the naivety of the man. Movement out of the corner of his eye made him turn and he watched as Hermione knelt down next to a fallen Death Eater, but her eyes were focused on her friend who Draco had just stunned. _Don’t do it,_ he thought fiercely in her direction and felt momentary relief when she went back to the Death Eater lying in front of her. At least she was doing her part, Draco thought. At least she wouldn’t be the death of them tonight.

He moved forward, past the overturned beds on the floor towards the medical cabinet he knew would be towards the back. It hadn’t been explicitly requested, but Draco always tried to stock up on resources during the battles they fought if there was an opportunity. He was able to slip several bottles of potions into the pockets of his robe, thinking that Granger could add them to her personal stock, just in case.

Just as he was turning away he saw a flash of light speeding towards him, and at the last minute it was stopped by a shield charm. He stunned the unfamiliar order member who had tried to hex him before glancing around. Hermione was looking at him from several feet away, her wand drawn up in the remnant motions of casting the shielding charm.

Before he could acknowledge her help, someone started screaming and laughing. He knew the sound of that laugh. Had heard it many times as the person who made it tortured another victim like she had Hermione so long ago.

Bellatrix was all but squealing when Draco came up behind her. Over her shoulder he saw that she was dueling with the Weasley mother. She was winning too. Draco cursed under his breath as he moved with his gut instinct. He stumbled into Bellatrix, clutching at her shoulder as he pretended to trip over one of the beds lying on the ground.

Bellatrix stumbled forward with the impact and Mrs. Weasley was able to momentarily recover, sending a curse directly at Bellatrix. The black-haired witch froze instantly, her arms outstretched as she screamed in pain. Draco wished that Mrs. Weasley had used a killing curse. It would have finally been over for his deranged aunt, something he had dreamt about for years.

Instead of crumbling away, his aunt crumpled to the ground and Draco met Mrs. Weasley’s eyes briefly. She nodded at him and he saw the heavy weight of fatigue in her blue eyes. This war was taking a tole on everyone, some more than others.

Moving past the redheaded witch he stepped in besides another Death Eater to duel with a blond-haired wizard. The man was more skilled than Draco had expected, and he fought hard, sending spell after spell at the two of them. The order member seemed to be able to dodge or shield everything they threw at him.

Draco noticed briefly that the crowd was thinning as order members started to retreat. Not the man in front of them though, Draco thought with a curse as he dodged a bright green hex. Snarling he put everything he had behind the next curse, feeling momentary relief when the man stumbled back as the red spell passed through him.

The Death Eater next to him laughed with glee as they watched the man start to fall. Several order members disappeared around them and the Death Eaters were starting to celebrate their victory, only a few duelers left. A quick movement near the man they had been dueling caught Draco’s attention again.

Fuck, he thought as he met the eyes of Harry Bloody Potter himself. He had hoped to avoid the boy-who-lived during this battle. Harry bent down to help the fallen man to his feet.

“Potter.” The Death Eater with whom Draco had been dueling with snarled out and stepped forward. Harry took him down with a quick stunning spell. He raised his wand towards Draco, a warning look quite obvious in his green eyes.

It was as if the world was against Draco as he heard the chilling laughter start up from behind him again. He closed his eyes briefly and was flashed back to the taunting his aunt had given him that night in the astronomy tower almost seven years ago. Potter took a step back as he saw the black-haired witch start to approach them.

“Kill him Draco!” Bellatrix screamed out, her voice shrill with glee and anticipation.

Draco ground his teeth together for an instant before raising his wand and Potter met his eyes. His grip on the smooth wand in his hand tightened and then he did the worst thing he could do in this moment; he hesitated.

His hesitation was long enough to allowed Potter to disparate, leaving Draco behind staring at the empty space he left behind. Potter must have been the last to leave for silence now fell over the room. Even Bellatrix was quiet.

He was dead, Draco thought with calm resignation. He had hesitated and he was dead. Voldemort did not forgive hesitations, especially when it was against the very person he hated the most. His breath felt like it was stuck in his throat as he stared at the space Harry Potter had once stood. The pounding of his heart beat loudly in his ears.

“That was unwise Draco.” He heard someone behind him say. The words brought him out of his stupor, and he turned with a sharp look at the masked man who had spoken.

“Was it? How do you think the Dark Lord would react to someone but himself taking Potter’s life?” It was a poor attempt, but one that he knew held a semblance of truth. It wouldn’t explain his inaction against Potter, but it would buy him some credibility, and maybe some time.

He saw a slight movement off to the side and glanced over to look at Hermione. The sharp features of her face were impassive, but he could see the fear and shock in her eyes. She knew as well as he did the consequences of his actions. She was still bent over a body of one of the Death Eaters, her hands tinged with the red blood of her enemies. She was stronger than he was, Draco realized in an instant. She would get through this.

At the moment he couldn’t say the same for himself.

He turned his head again as Bellatrix approached him. A smug smile across her lips made his hair stand on end. She reached out a hand and ran a thin, bony finger down his cheek and across his lips. “Time to go.” She spit out shrilly and gripped his arm as she apparated.

At once they were back in the cave and Draco felt one step closer to his end. Bellatrix was still gripping his arm tightly as she drug him towards the front of the cave, her long nails digging painfully into his skin. But if he was going to die, he wouldn’t be drug into it by his aunt, he though. With a flash of anger, he pushed her away from him, enjoying the shocked look that crossed her face as she stumbled back.

“I can walk, thank you.” His voice was calmer than he expected, and he steeled his nerves as he continued on the rest of the way towards the front of the cave.

There must not have been many treatable victims as Hermione was standing off to the side, her jacket was torn along the sleeve and a small streak of blood stood out against the pale skin of her cheek. He didn’t meet her eyes, instead turned his head forward as he faced the Dark Lord.

Voldemort must have been alerted to the happenings at the hospital for he was ready when Draco arrived. Immediately, he felt the slippery essence of the snake in his mind, sliding over his thoughts like water. Draco pushed forward memory after memory of the fight. The screams of the order sounded in the corners of his mind and he felt the slight note of glee from the Dark Lord. He pushed forward images of all the order members he had dropped. Then purposefully, he pushed forward the last memory of Potter, not bothering to hide his hesitation.

He had found in the past that with occlumency, showing the truth when you could was the best thing to do. And in this instance, Voldemort was already looking to punish someone, might as well give him a reason to do it.

The slippery invasion ended almost as quickly as it had begun. The cold, red eyes that glowed down on him from the cavern throne made him feel empty, like Voldemort had left his mind and taken with him his sanity.

“You disappoint me Draco.” Voldemort hissed out. The rest of the cave was silent, everyone else waiting with baited breath for what came next.

“My Lord, if I may. I know that Potter is yours. I never wanted to infringe upon your right to him.” Draco made sure that his voice was calm and his face pleading. Voldemort liked it when his victims begged.

“Did you?”

“I would never take away that victory from you, my Lord.” Draco said, spreading his hands wide in surrender. “Potter is yours, and yours alone. I am not worthy of killing him.”

It was working he thought as he watched a slight shift in Voldemort’s face, a slight weakening of the hatred mixed with glee.

It was several moments of terrifying silence before Voldemort spoke again. “Your actions are quite regrettable Draco.” He started to raise his wand and Draco closed his eyes, bracing himself for the flash of green that would drop him to the ground, lifeless. At least Hermione could go back to the order easily, like she had never been there at all.

“But,” Voldemort continued, and Draco opened his eyes to see that the wizard had dropped his wand slightly. “You were right to leave the boy to me.”

Draco hissed out a breath, feeling his heart start to race as the words. He wasn’t going to die. Not today. A sudden movement of Voldemort’s hand made him belatedly realize that he had relaxed too quickly.

“ _Crucio!_ ” The Dark Lord cried out and Draco clenched his jaw as the searing pain ripped through his chest, taking the breath out of his lungs as it felt they would collapse in on themselves.

He lost all thought. His only sensation of being alive was the pure pain that tore him apart, shredded his skin while his bones cracked in fire. He had been tortured countless times before, but usually it was for the enjoyment of the Dark Lord. Never had he ever done anything to actually warrant the actions. It was strange, Draco thought between searing waves of pain, how much intent played a role in the severity of the curse.

The torture seemed to last forever, and Draco found himself on the ground, curled in on himself and panting when the pain finally ceased. It came in waves, repeatedly until he didn’t think he could bear anymore. When it finally ended long enough for thoughts to start forming in his brain again, Draco instinctively braced himself for another attack, but after several moments none came. His body screamed with residual shocks while his mind flowed in and out of consciousness as protective mechanisms took over.

Mumbling sounded overhead but he couldn’t make out the words. Couldn’t hear anything except for the blood rushing through his ears with every twitch of muscle. He let his head slip to the ground and his breath shuddered out, wishing just for a moment that Voldemort would just finish it. Finish him. Set him free.

A brief pressure on his arm was the only indication that he was being touched and he could barely register that. It sent waves of pain down his arm that only increased when the dark pressure of apparition sucked him in. The final blow came in the landing which was less than graceful with his limp form. The accompanied pain had him crying out again, only briefly before slipping into the blissful world of unconsciousness.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Additional images at the bottom for your viewing pleasure :)

Draco groaned at the throbbing pain that seemed to course through his body, waking him from the not-so-restful slumber. He raised a hand to rub at his aching eyes, immediately regretting the movement as a sharp stabbing pain shot through his head. He groaned again and slowly opened his eyes.

He was on the couch in the sitting room in his house, he observed with a confused look at the ornate ceiling above him. He turned his head slightly and tried to remember how he had gotten here. He remembered being tortured for hesitating to attack Potter, but normally when he had been tortured by the Dark Lord in the past, he simply woke up on the cave floor an hour or so later.

Pushing himself up from the uncomfortable cushions, he caught site of Granger sitting in the armchair near the window. She was sitting sideways in the chair, looking much more put together, and much more like herself, than he had last seen her in the cave. Her legs were bare and hung over the arm of the chair, he noted with furrowed brows. Once again, he couldn’t help but to think what his mother would say if she saw her.

Hermione looked up at his movement and met his eyes. She sighed and shut the book she had been reading, placing both of her arms across the cover of the heavy novel.

“You know Malfoy, I’m getting pretty tired of having to scrape you off the floor.” Her tone was casual, but he didn’t miss the slight twitch of her lips.

“Could have just left me in the cave.” He said gruffly, swinging his legs to hang over the edge of the couch. The throbbing in his head intensified and he leaned forward to cradle the aching body part.

Hermione furrowed her brows in concern at his movements. She had helped plenty of post-cruciatus patient’s over the years, not to mention having suffered the curse on multiple occasions herself. She had just the thing. Standing she crossed the room to and accio’d her bag down from her room. The small purple bag flew through the air moments later with some difficulty given its magical weight.

After a moment of rummaging she extracted a small bottle filled with bright blue liquid. Taking a seat on the couch next to Draco she nudged his shoulder, holding out the bottle when he peeked over at her. He took it hesitantly, eyeing the contents with suspicion that made her want to roll her eyes.

“Do you really think I’d try to poison you?” She asked, tilting her head with amusement at him.

Draco sat up slightly and shrugged, unstoppering the bottle to sniff the contents. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing that’s happened to me today.”

Hermione furrowed her brows as his words brought back the memory of him being tortured. It had been painful having to stand there in the cave while Voldemort crucioed him time and time again. It went on for what felt like hours, as soon as Draco was given a moment to recover the spell was overtaking him again. He had screamed and yelled, each sound grating her ears and making her heart race. She had glimpsed a picture of what his life must have been like over the past few years and the sympathy she felt for him increased.

“Stop it.” Draco said, knocking back the blue contents in one swig. It tasted like raspberry he noted and ran his tongue around the inside of his mouth to savor the taste.

“Stop what?” Hermione asked, confused.

He looked over at her, noting that she was in her pajamas. The dark blue tank top she was wearing hung loosely off of her shoulders and he could see the swell of her breasts exposed from the low neckline. She blushed under his gaze and adjusted her shirt. She hadn’t planned on waiting for him to wake once she and Kildy had settled him on the couch. But once she had changed and observed him for a few moments, the book she had picked out held her attention too thoroughly to notice how much time had passed.

“Stop feeling sorry for me.” Draco said, dragging his eyes away from her. “I can feel the pity wafting off of you.”

“I’m not—” Hermione began but stopped when he shot her a look. “Right, sorry. Does your head feel better?” She asked after a few moments.

Draco squinted his eyes and took internal stock, his head did feel better. It no longer throbbed with each movement and he rolled his neck, trying to stretch the tight muscles. She really was a good healer, he thought with appreciation. Many times he had spent the entire day after being tortured laying painfully in bed, each tiny movement sending new shocks through his body.

“Draco..” Hermione started after a few moments of silence, her voice quieter than it had been before. He took note of how close she was sitting to him and the warmth radiating off her skin was oddly comforting in the coolness of the Manor’s air.

Hermione sighed as her raised his brows at her use of his first name. “I’ll call you Malfoy if you prefer but I just watched you get tortured. Seems a bit impersonal.”

Draco felt a bit uncomfortable with the knowledge that Hermione Granger had just observed him in his most vulnerable state. Fair’s fair, he thought, remembering that he had been witness to her own torture.

“Alright, _Hermione_.” He said with emphasis, portraying his thoughts with a single word. He mentally kicked himself as he watched the understanding of the significance of her name coming from his lips cross her face.

She recovered a moment later, shaking her head and tucking her loose hair behind her ears. She scooted back on the couch until she reached the arm, pulling her legs up to cross under her. Draco watched her movements for a moment before leaning back on the couch and closing his eyes. His head may feel better but the fatigue he always felt after being tortured was threatening to overtake him.

“Draco, what happened to your mother?”

Her question startled him, and his eyes flew open. The look he gave her was cold and she took a deep breath, holding her position.

“While you were being tortured the person next to me made a comment about how you were just like your mother.” He narrowed his eyes at her, but she kept talking. “I know she’s dead. What happened to her?” The words came out in a rush, like she had to get them out before they froze in her throat.

The silence between them was deafening but Hermione held his gaze. Seeing that she wasn’t about to let it go, he sighed and leaned his head against the back of the couch, once again closing his eyes. “My father killed her.” He said simply, not bothering to open his eyes as her shark intake of air. He wasn’t sure why he was telling her this. She didn’t have any right to know, but in this moment, he was too tired to care.

“Did Potter ever tell you what happened when he went to meet Voldemort in the woods? When he gave himself up?”

Hermione shook her head but then remembered that he couldn’t see her with his eyes closed. “No. He never liked to go into details about what happened at Hogwarts. Harry’s always taken the loss a bit personally.”

Draco snorted and opened his eyes to stare at the ceiling. For a while he had placed the blame of the loss on Potter as well, not understanding how boy-wonder could not have defeated the Dark Lord. Potter had been groomed for years for the moment he would take down Voldemort, and when it finally ame, he had failed. Life would have been so much better if he had just won that night. His mother would still be alive, he’d be working in a potion’s lab using the education he had worked hard for.

“Potter needs to get off his high horse and understand that the world’s problems do not fall solely on his shoulders.” Draco said, turning his neck to look at her. She narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head.

“Don’t change the subject.”

Draco rolled his eyes and sighed. “Well according to my mother, Voldemort did kill Harry that night, at least for a moment. He was hit with an _Avada_ and was out for several minutes, everyone there thought that he was finally dead, including Voldemort. My mother was sent to check Potter and as you can imagine, was quite surprised to find him still alive.” He could feel Hermione watching him intently but kept talking. “She saved his life in exchange for information about me.”

He opened his eyes to Hermione’s confused gaze. She has nice eyes, warm, he thought briefly before continuing. “Potter told my mother that I was still alive in the castle, and she told Voldemort that he was dead. Not a very fair exchange in my opinion.”

“She was killed because of her lie?”

Draco paused for a moment, allowing himself to get lost in her eyes for a few moments before nodding. He ran a hand through his hair as he leaned forward off the couch, resting his forearms on his thighs as he stared at the large portrait of his parents that hung above the fireplace on the far wall. “Obviously she bet on Potter winning that night.”

“Harry tried you know. We all tried.” Hermione said feeling the need to defend her best friend. She could see the fight between residual anger and sadness occurring across Malfoy’s face and she wanted to lean forward and touch him, provide some sort of comfort from the storm she could see brewing in his mind.

Draco looked over at her again and nodded. Besides the night with Pansy, this was the most they had talked about their actual lives, all other conversation centering around their mission. It felt odd opening up to someone and he briefly wondering if there wasn’t a touch of Veritaserum in the potion she had given him.

Potter had tried. Draco had seen it with his own eyes. But, just like on so many occasions in the cave, the spell Potter had cast had simply glanced off the Dark Lord before all hell broke loose. His mother had seen the same scene and immediately taken him back to the manor, explaining everything that had happened with a grave tone, telling him that he had to be strong without her. He furrowed his brows at the memory trying to push it back behind the wall.

“Anyways,” Draco continued, pushing off the couch to pace slowly on the dark wood floors. His movements made Hermione feel slightly anxious. “Voldemort, as I’m sure you’ve deduced by now, doesn’t take too kindly to betrayal. He tortured her, had my father torture her, almost made me torture her.” Hermione’s brows drew together, hating the thought of eighteen-year-old Draco being forced to torture the woman who had saved so many of their lives.

“But you didn’t?” She asked, reading his expression.

Draco paused in his pacing to face her. Their eyes met for a moment before he shook his head. “No. My father went a bit too far with his last round of torture before it was supposed to be my turn. Her heart gave out.”

Hermione let the words wash over her before she stood, walking across the cold floor to him. The pain was evident in his eyes as he replayed the memory of his mother’s last moments in his mind. She tentatively reached out her hand to him, not really thinking about her movements. He flinched as her hand came to rest upon his upper arm, as if it was the first human contact he had had in a while, like a wounded puppy.

Hermione ran her hand down his arm to grip his cold hand in hers. “I’m sorry.” She said, knowing that it would never be enough. Knowing that there isn’t anything in the world that can fill the void left by a parent’s death.

For a moment they stood in silence together. Draco suddenly realized how close they were with only half a foot separating them. But he was grateful for the closeness. He squeezed her hand briefly and, on a whim, raised his other arm to her hair. Hermione felt her breath catch in her throat at his actions as he ran a loose curl between his fingers.

“I always liked your hair you know?” He said, the corner of his mouth twitching. He was really tired.

“Then you’d be the only one.” Hermione scoffed.

He did smile at that, not a full fledged one, but a soft, closed lipped grin. Dropping his hand from her hair, he gave her hand a final squeeze before dropping it as well. “Good work tonight Granger.”

Hermione didn’t miss the transition back to using her surname and gave him a slight smile. “You too. Though I’m sure Ron will have something to say to you next time you’re in the same room.”

Draco shrugged but she didn’t miss the twitch of his lips. “Weasley should be a bit more careful about his emotions when dueling.”

Hermione sighed and rolled her eyes, knowing that his words were completely accurate. Ron always had issues holding his anger in check when they were in a fight, something that had almost cost him his life on several occasions. If it hadn’t been Draco he had been dueling with that night, it would have been someone else who wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to kill him.

“I’m sorry about your mother.” Hermione repeated, rubbing her hands over her arms, feeling the prickle of gooseflesh on the chilly skin.

Draco glanced over at her from where he was picking up a cushion that had fallen from the couch. “Thanks. I’m sorry about your parents too.”

Her brows furrowed at his response. “What do you know about that?” She asked, her voice hitching in her throat. Her parents had been presumed dead with the destruction of their home in Australia, but a small part of her still held on to the hope that they had somehow made it out.

“Malfoy what do you know?” She asked again, taking a step towards him.

The sadness in his grey eyes as they met hers told her everything she needed to know. She bit her lip to keep the tears from filling her eyes.

“Granger..” Malfoy said, moving towards her.

“No,” Hermione held up her hand, taking a step back. She couldn’t look at him, couldn’t show the weakness in her eyes. “Don’t, it’s okay.”

He stopped in his advance, furrowing his own brows at the pained look on her face. Her eyes flicked up to his and she gave him a slight smile. “I mean, I always knew. Deep down I suppose.” She trailed off and Draco more than understood the pain that she was feeling in this moment.

The conquest of Granger’s parents murder had been broadcast gleefully about the snake pit. It was something the four Death Eaters who had killed them had bragged incessantly about for months until the Dark Lord tired of it and killed them. Voldemort didn’t like sharing glory with others.

“It doesn’t make it any easier though.” Draco said softly.

Hermione looked up at him. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought that the death of their parents would be something that she would connect with Draco Malfoy about. But she shook her head and met his eyes.

He looked down for a moment before nodding and looking up again. “Goodnight, Granger.” He said before turning and leaving the room. Hermione could hear the soft sounds of his footsteps ascending the stair and it was only when she heard his bedroom door close that she shakily lowered herself to the couch and wept.

***

A week later, Hermione stood in the large closet glaring at the racks of clothing in front of her. Her scalp itched from the pins that held up her hair in the elaborate braid that Kildy had fixed earlier. Fucking Parkinson, Hermione thought angrily as she flipped through the hangers.

“Granger we’ve got to leave soon. Are you ready?” Malfoy’s voice called from the outer room and Hermione barely had time to cover her partial nakedness with a robe before he popped his head into the closet. Since their conversation after he had been tortured, he was much less cold with her. Though she wouldn’t exactly call them friends, she didn’t feel as uncomfortable around him as she had before. And he obviously felt the same as he barged into the closet without a second thought. She raised her brows at him.

“You’re not even dressed?” He asked in surprise, seeing the deep blue silk robe that clad her body.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. “No, I thought I’d attend a fucking ball in a bathrobe Malfoy. Might start a new fashion trend.”

His grey eyes met hers for a moment before he shook his head, ignoring her sarcasm. Reaching around her, he plucked a hanger from the rack. “This one.”

Growing even more annoyed, she snatched it from his hand, barely glancing down at the dress he had picked out. When he didn’t move to leave, she raised her brows at him. “This isn’t going to get done any faster with you in here.” Hermione said, her voice with an edge of ice to it.

His brows went up fractionally before he turned and left the large closet. Hermione wanted nothing more than the stick her tongue out at his retreating form but schooled her emotions in time, reminding herself that she wasn’t twelve anymore. Begrudgingly, she held the dress up in front of her and sighed, accepting her fate. At least there wasn’t any fucking lace on this one, Hermione thought with resignation.

Several minutes later she emerged from the closet, smoothing her hands over the deep blue silk that hugged her body and fell over her skin like water. She couldn’t deny that the dress looked good on her and it fit like a glove. Draco looked up from adjusting the cufflinks on his shirt. He was leaning up against one of the bedposts in her room and tilted his head appreciatively at her appearance. She couldn’t help but to admire his own getup, acknowledging silently that Malfoy most definitely was made to wear a tuxedo.

The dress she wore was much more modest than the black monstrosity she had to wear for the initiation. However despite being covered, the silkiness against her skin was like a whisper of wind and Hermione felt oddly naked. It slithered over her and fell to the ground, hopefully covering up the flat sandals she had opted to wear in leu of high heels. Her wand was strapped securely to her calf and the slit in the back of the gown didn’t move enough to reveal it.

When Draco had received the invitation to the Parkinson Gala a few days ago, he had been surprised to find that it was also extended to the new healer. The Parkinson’s weren’t directly involved in the snake pit, preferring to stay in the business side of the work and run the many companies that profited from the Dark Lords escapades. But he knew Pansy must have put two and two together regarding the rumors of Voldemort’s new healer and Hermione’s sudden appearance at his house.

Hermione had fought him tooth and nail in her refusal to attend, but he only had to remind her how important it was to act normal to get her to concede. To be honest, he enjoyed watching her get worked up. It had been one of the main reasons he had teased her in school. Nothing was more entertaining than watching the brightest witch of their age fumble for words as she tried to decide what the best way to kill him was.

She really did look good, he thought, letting his eyes wander over her silk clad body. The smooth curves of her body were on full display with every movement she made, and Hermione cleared her throat when she caught him looking at her.

“I thought we were late?” She asked, her voice cool.

Draco met her gaze without any embarrassment. “Then we should go.”

Hermione let out a breath and shook her head before slipping the gold ring on her finger, pausing momentarily adjusting a pin as it came loose as her hair transitioned from the curly brown mass into the sleek black locks.

“Shall we?” Draco asked, holding out his tuxedo clad arm to her.

Hermione's getup. I enjoy Pinterest wayyyy too much 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to leave you halfway through a scene but I'm going to have some fun with the Parkinson Ball. I've always imagined the Death Eaters have fancy soirees with all the rich, pureblood families that make up their ranks.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a long one for ya'll! I love writing the more "filler" scenes, especially ones that involve fancy dresses :)

“Why are we here again?” Hermione asked as they made their way up the marble stairs leading to the expansive front doors of the Parkinson Manor. She had been apprehensive about the invitation from the beginning, and the sullen attitude Draco had about it wasn’t helping.

When they had first arrived out on the front lawn, Hermione had gawked at the place. The manor was four stories tall, turrets made the roof line look even more imposing and she all at once wished she could go back to the relative safety of Malfoy Manor.

It was completely constructed of white and gold marble, something that must have glowed in the sunlight instead of standing out starkly in the current pale moonlight. The gardens were expansive, and she had almost forgotten to keep her jaw from hitting the floor as she and Malfoy had made their way up to the front door.

“No offense Malfoy, but this place makes you look almost poor.” She said, not bothering to look up at him as her eyes were otherwise occupied, wide with the expansive house before her.

Draco huffed and tugged on her arm that was looped through his. “That’s because compared to this, I am poor. The Parkinson’s have done quite well for themselves with the war effort.” His tone was nonchalant, but Hermione felt how tense the muscles in his arm were under her fingertips.

“Jealous?” She asked, glancing up at his impassive face, trying to break the tension he was generating.

Draco glanced down at her and shrugged. “Sure. If benefiting from other people’s tragedies while the world is going to hell is something to be jealous of, then sure.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “And yet here we are.”

An older gentleman stood at the doorway, greeting the guests as they arrived. When they got closer Hermione noticed how handsome he was, like a Sean Connery type she remembered from one of her mother’s favorite films. The salt-and-pepper hair that was thick on his head was echoed in the trim beard. He didn’t smile as he greeted the guests but something about his interaction felt warm and welcoming.

The man held out his arms to Draco when he noticed the duo approaching him, this time with what seemed like a genuine smile.

“Ah, Draco, my boy. I’m so honored you could make it.” The man said, striding forward to clasp Draco’s hand in his. Hermione let her arm drop from Malfoy’s and stood watching the interaction. This was quite obviously Mr. Parkinson, the almost black irises of his eyes were reflected perfectly in his daughters.

“Mr. Parkinson, sir.” Draco said cordially, confirming Hermione’s assumption. “Thank you for the invitation, we were honored to be thought of.” The formal tone of his voice made Hermione want to laugh. She had seen him too many times, grouchy and messy, trekking into the kitchen for coffee in the morning to think of him as an elite.

The man shook his head and clapped a hand to Draco’s upper arm with a laugh, “Not at all, young man. You are always welcome here.”

Draco inclined his head gracefully.

“I do hope that you’ve had a chance to consider my offer.” Mr. Parkinson added in a lower voice with a partially stern look.

The almost pained look that flashed across Malfoy’s face caught Hermione’s attention, but Mr. Parkinson seemed to have not noticed as he barked out a laugh.

“All for another time, dear man.” He clapped Draco on his upper arm and glanced over at Hermione.

“Ahh, but it appears the offer may have been in vain?” He cast an inquiring look at Draco before turning to face Hermione.

He extended his hand to her and she gingerly placed hers in it. His palm was smooth but warm as he gripped her fingers and raised them to his lips. Quite the flatterer, Hermione thought as she inclined her head towards him, offering a gracious smile.

“Mr. Parkinson this is—”

“Olivia Raneire.” Mr. Parkinson interrupted Draco, still keeping his eyes on Hermione, her hand held tightly in his. “I’ve heard all about you.”

Hermione tried to keep her features impassive and offered a small smile. She could see where Pansy got her charm from. “All good things I trust.”

The corner of the older man’s mouth twitched, and he bowed his head to her the look in his eye made her somewhat uncomfortable. “Among other things.”

Her eyes narrowed at this and she shot a quick glance over the man’s shoulder and saw that Malfoy’s eyes were narrowed as well. She smiled again at Mr. Parkinson, discretely pulling her hand from his grip.

“We should let you attend to your other guests, thank you for your hospitality, sir.” She said, her tone more graceful than she felt.

Mr. Parkinson bowed his head to her again, “Of course.” Turning back to Draco he gave a slight incline of his head. “Draco.”

Draco took hold of Hermione’s elbow and steered her away from the main entrance, his grip a touch tighter than it needed to be. Something about Pansy’s father irked him as well and Hermione itched to ask about it.

Once inside, they were greeted by several people, exchanging nauseating pleasantries as they made their way about the room. Finally escaping a Mr. and Mrs. Monret, Draco breathed a sigh of relief and steered her to the bar inside, ordering for both of them.

“Are you sure you should be drinking?” Hermione asked, remembering acutely the last time he had drank at one of these little Death Eater functions. She eyed his glass of what appeared to be whisky dubiously.

Draco let his eyes sweep around the crowded room. “I don’t think I’d make it through this without drinking. The risk is quite worth it.”

True, Hermione thought as she raised her own glass to her lips. The champagne tingled delightfully against her lips and she appreciated it, knowing it would likely be some time before she tasted something so fine again. It’s not like the order had time for fancy soirees with thousand-galleon bottles of champagne. With that though, she drained the first glass and ordered another one, earning an amused look from Draco.

The room was bustling with activity, the flurry of color and light mesmerizing. The parties that happened in the cave seemed primitive compared to the current environment. Fairy lights flickered over the large expanse of the room and soft classical music weaved its way to them from the orchestra in the corner. This was probably the fanciest thing that she had ever attended, and she let Draco know.

“It’s all for show.” Draco said, glancing down at her awed expression as she observed the dancers. “No better way to let others know your standing in the world than to throw your money in their face.”

Hermione looked over at him in surprise but was cut off from her next question by a flurry of bright pink that threw itself at her. Hermione stumbled back at the impact, trying to from spilling her glass down the back of the woman who was now exclaiming excitedly as she wrapped her arms around Hermione.

“Oh, I’m so happy you came!” Pansy said excitedly, and loudly in Hermione’s ear. She pulled back and held Hermione at arm’s length, eyeing the length of her body with approval. “Sweet Merlin, you’ve got a body.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at Pansy. As far as she knew, neither she nor Draco had told Pansy about her disguise let alone what she looked like, but the witch obviously knew who she was. Pansy, as if reading her mind, gave Hermione a smirk.

“Please, a beautiful woman waltzes in with Death Eater’s number one bachelor and you think I wouldn’t know every detail?”

Hermione narrowed her eyes, not entirely convinced of the sleuthing powers of the black-haired witch. Pansy winked at her, as if sensing her apprehension. “Plus your ass is quite recognizable.”

She laughed at the shocked look on Hermione face before turning to Draco and greeting him with as much enthusiasm as she had Hermione. Kissing him full on the lips, Pansy gripped Draco’s face in her hands. Hermione blushed slightly at the familiarity of their embrace. Once they had pulled apart, Draco glared at her and pulled her hands from his cheek. Pansy didn’t look affronted at his actions what-so-ever and gave him the same smirk that she had given Hermione.

“Your father is watching.” Draco told the witch sternly. Hermione looked about and saw that the man they had met earlier was indeed staring in their direction, his eyes narrowed slightly as he witnessed the interaction between Draco and his daughter.

Pansy rolled his eyes and turned a grin back to Hermione. “Oh let him, daddy needs to realize I’m not a teenager anymore. Besides, do you really think he would object?” She asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Draco rolled his eyes and finished off his drink, turning back to the bar for another one. Pansy immediately turned her attention back to Hermione, taking her hand and twirling her as she admired the slinky, blue dress flowing over Hermione’s skin.

“Good god, witch. Where the hell have you been hiding all this?” She asked, eyeing Hermione with an appreciative grin. The scrutiny was making Hermione uncomfortable and she gave a nervous laugh, not sure if Pansy had meant the dress or something else.

“I’m coming back for that closet.” Pansy said with a wink before waltzing off to the other guests, her own short, bright pink dress flouncing after her.

Hermione blinked after the witch, the flurry of events had gave her a head rush and she gave Draco a bewildered look. “What just happened?”

Draco chuckled and glanced down at her, “We just got Pansy-fied.”

Hermione laughed at his response and sent him an amused look. He finished off his second drink and gracefully held out a hand to her. “Care to dance?”

She eyed him apprehensively but saw the corner of his mouth twitch at her actions. She didn’t like dancing, but wasn’t about to bow down to the challenge that he presented her. Shaking her head, she took his hand and allowed him to lead her out into the flurry of activity in the middle of the room. He was a good dancer, she observed as he led her into the sway of the music. His hand was warm against the bare skin of her back as he pressed her close to him.

“So, what’s going on between you and Mr. Parkinson?” Hermione asked, keeping her tone even as they moved together.

Draco glanced down at her in surprise, meeting the deep blue eyes he still hadn’t gotten used to. “What makes you think there is something going on?”

Hermione scoffed and raised her brows to him. The band had slowed their tempo and they adjusted their pace, swayed easily together, her dress sliding across her legs like water. “Just the tone of the interaction earlier, his mention of a deal, and they way he was looking at you and Pansy.”

Draco raised his gaze from her face and looked over the top of her head around the room. He cleared his throat, “It’s nothing really. He seems to think that Pansy and I are somehow intended for each other.”

“Intended?” Hermione asked in confusion.

“Betrothed.” Draco said simply.

It wasn’t exactly the answer she had been expecting, but from her studies she knew that pureblood families often times arranged marriages between their children. _To keep the lineage strong and pure_ , she remembered reading from one of the less interesting books in the library.

“That doesn’t seem like nothing.” She said, tilting her head to look at him. He was quite a bit taller than she was, her forehead in direct line with his chin. “Are you? Intended?”

He didn’t answer for a moment, letting his eyes continue to roam over the other figures moving around them. His grip on her hand grew tighter momentarily. “I suppose, technically the answer would be yes. However, that is never going to happen?”

“Why not?”

The music ended and they stopped moving, Draco turning his face down to look at her. “Why do you care?”

He was closer than he had ever been to her. She realized that she would just need to raise up on her toes to bring their lips together. She startled at the unbidden thought that swept through her mind, not entirely sure where it had come from. Pulling away, the skin on her back chilled with the loss of heat from Draco’s hand.

“I don’t. Just curious.”

Draco smirked at her as if he could read her mind. “Right.”

Glaring at him she backed away slightly. “I think I’ll get another drink.” She said, noting with relief that a shorter man had taken the opportunity of their separation and approached Draco with a serious look, immediately starting to converse with him.

She didn’t bother waiting to hear the conversation, turning on her heel instead to make her way back to the bar. She could feel several eyes follow her as she walked across the dance floor, mentally wondering if it would have been a better idea to alter her body along with her face. She didn’t necessarily consider herself attractive, at least not in the way that Pansy had portrayed her as earlier, but she knew that her body was lean and toned from years of fighting and living off limited resources. She was thin, but strong, the soft curves of her breasts and hips were even more obvious with the clinginess of the silk that covered them. She tried not to blush under the obviousness of one man’s gaze as she swept by him.

Hermione took the drink she was handed and started to slowly make her way around the room, keeping her demeanor casual but taking note of everyone who was here. Several heads of pure-blood families were present, ones she knew weren’t Death Eaters in the typical sense of the word, and could only be assumed to hold a similar role to Mr. Parkinson.

It made anger bubble in her chest knowing that these men were getting richer off of the war. There were several large corporations that had overrun the small shops in Diagon Alley, replacing them with huge, factory like companies that spit out lower quality items. Before the order had to go into hiding for the final time, the joke shop was the only one left on the street that wasn’t owned by Voldemort’s regime.

George had held out as long as he could, keeping the store open for Fred’s sake. He told Hermione after a night of drinking at the Burrow a few years ago that he felt the closest to his brother when he was in the shop, even forgot sometimes that Fred wasn’t just in the back room working on stock. The shop burned down the week after.

Hermione moved slowly along the outside walls of the expansive ballroom, casually sipping from the flute of champagne in her hand. She saw several faces she recognized from Hogwarts, most of them from Slytherin of course.

Theodore Nott caught her eye as he and Draco bent their heads bent together on the opposite side of the room, seemingly in deep conversation. From Blaise, Hermione knew that Theo was a good friend of both his and Draco’s. The trio along with Pansy, Millicent Bullstrode, Crabbe and Goyle were the main group of Slytherin house, the rest of the snakes headed their authority in all things. It didn’t hurt that all of their parents were involved in the Dark Lord’s plans in some way or another. 

The mass of dancers slowed, and the music died out, transitioning quickly into a new song. Suddenly hating the place and the jovial displays while the rest of the world was in chaos, Hermione stole out one of the open terrace doors that lined the room.

The fresh air was lovely as it swept over her heated skin. At the edge of the marble patio, she stopped and looked over the grounds. Tall hedges lined the expansive lawn, perfectly manicured trees dotted freshly mown grass and Hermione thought she saw a large pool towards the edge of the property. There were floating, twinkling lights through the flower bed and once upon a time, Hermione would have found them enchanting.

Even still, she held up the hem of her dress as she made her way towards them, feeling swamped in the expansive vines and hedges that served as sort of a pathway. The gardens were impressive, she noted as she meandered through them. She recognized several varieties of flowers and crouched down to finger one of the deep purple blossoms that caught her eye.

“Well, well,” A gravely voice came from behind her as she was crouched, making her jump. “What have we here?”

Hermione stood and spun around, her breath hitching in her throat when she saw who was standing behind her. Fenir Greyback was leaning against a tree not four feet from her, staring at her like she was his prey. He was just as she remembered him, just how he appeared when he haunted her dreams over the past several years.

“Fenir can have the mudblood when we’re done here.” Bellatrix’s oily voice played through her head and the accompanied fear made Hermione’s heart beat faster.

As if sensing her thoughts, Greyback smiled menacingly at her and pushed off of the tree, taking a step towards her. Hermione held her ground, not willing to let her fear be the reason her cover was blown. There was too much at stake to think about personal preservation right now.

“I’ve heard about you.” The man said, his voice coming out as if he spent most of his time yelling. It grated at her nerves and brought everything that had happened in the manor rushing back.

The disconcertingly deep blue eyes bore into hers as he reached a hand own towards her. She watched as his hand moved closer, tried not to flinch when he ran a dirty finger down her cheek. Not being able to bear the contact any longer, she pulled her head away and took a step back. The show of weakness made Greyback smile, his teeth rotten behind his lips.

“Did you need something?” Hermione asked, surprised that her voice was as calm as it sounded. Her heart was pounding, and she knew that he could tell, the werewolf blood heightening his senses.

Greyback continued to sneer at her, taking a step forward once again to close the space between them. Hermione felt the back of her knees hit a bench that stood along the edge garden pathway. A quick glance in the direction she had come from showed that they entrenched in hedges and vine, the big house only barely visible over the tops of the shrubbery. She was stuck, no longer able to move away from this man. He made another movement forward and Hermione fell backwards, sitting down hard on the bench.

His breath smelled rotten as he leaned over, placing his hands on the back of the bench on either side of her, effectively circling her. Hermione cringed and closed her eyes as he leaned further forward and buried his nose in her hair, inhaling deeply with a satisfied sound that made her stomach churn. His nose moved downwards, running by her ear and down her neck, she thought she felt the dampness of his tongue as it licked the sensitive skin.

The nausea that rose up in her was almost overwhelming, and Hermione clenched her hands on the edge of the seat of the bench, her fingers aching with the effort. Fenir Greyback was favored by Voldemort, something about both of them being more in tune with their animal side. She couldn’t do anything to compromise her position, not with how deep she had placed herself within Voldemort’s ranks.

Then with a thump she felt his presence leave her, the stench giving way to clean, chilly air. She opened her eyes with shock to see the man was sprawled on his back across the walkway from her, crushing the flowers in the bed he had landed in. Greyback let out a snarl and Draco stepped forward to stand over him. The rush of relief that overtook Hermione was intense, making her breathing stuttered.

“Greyback.” Draco said coolly. Hermione couldn’t see the grey eyes but knew they would be hard as steel to match his voice. His wand was out, and she could see the tenseness of his muscles under the smooth black jacket he wore.

“Malfoy.” The man on the floor sneered back but didn’t move to retaliate. It was a testament to Draco’s position in Voldemort’s council that Greyback didn’t attack him immediately. There was even a flicker of fear in the werewolf’s eyes, something Hermione found surprising as she never would have thought of Draco Malfoy as someone to invoke fear.

You don’t know him, Hermione reminded herself as she watched the scene before her.

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be here.” Draco spoke again, stepping back to allow Greyback to scramble to his feet. “Let alone harassing guests.”

Greyback barred his teeth at Malfoy and looked over his shoulder to where Hermione still sat on the bench. “Just exploring my options. Though I suppose I should have known you’d be fucking the bitch by now.”

The tip of Draco’s wand was up in a flash, pressed deep into Greyback’s chest. Within half a second, Draco had Greyback pinned up to the tree that he had been leaning against earlier, the spell holding him there with a force that Hermione remembered only too well from her initial encounter with Draco at the manor over a month ago.

Greyback was snarling at this point, spittle flying from his mouth as he threw profanities in Draco’s direction. His feet barely touched the ground and Hermione could see the leaves on the tree shaking with his efforts to free himself.

Draco clicked his tongue and crossed over to stand infront of Greyback. Hermione could only see Greyback’s face but from the rage that crossed it, she was grateful that he was pinned to the tree.

Draco shifted on his feet and twirled the wand absentmindedly around his fingers, eyes never leaving the other man’s face. His calm, cold demeanor made Hermione believe in an instant that he could be scary, that he could stand in front of an army of men and command their respect. He was not the same boy she knew in Hogwarts.

Draco took another casual step towards the man and raised his wand, pressing it deep into Greyback’s neck. He leaned in close so that he was face to face with the all but growling man.

“Here’s what’s going to happen,” Draco began, twisting his wand deeper when Greyback started to speak. “I won’t tell the Dark Lord his pet was here, and you’ll keep your filthy paws off of her.”

Greyback’s eyes flicked over to where Hermione sat, the hatred in them blazed as he glared at her. Malfoy snarled and gripped Greyback’s chin in his hand, forcing the man to turn his head back to him.

“No, you don’t even get to look at her.” Draco said, his fingertips digging into the hairy flesh. “And if I ever find out that you went near her again, I’ll kill you.”

He spoke with such finality that Hermione almost forgot his confession to her those weeks ago. He has never killed anyone, she reminded herself, but the way he spoke to Greyback left her no doubt that he could.

Greyback snarled again as Draco stepped back and lifted the charm holding him to the tree. The bulky man stumbled forward as his feet hit the ground, rubbing at his chest where the spell had held him. He barred his teeth at Draco as he looked up at him, the rage in his eyes made Hermione want to put up a shield charm between the two men.

“You’re not as important as you think you are, boy.” Greyback finally snarled out, straitening his back to his full height.

“I think we’ll let the Dark Lord be the judge of that. Why he keeps you around I’ll never understand, he already has a snake, I’m not sure why he’d need a dog as well.” Draco said simply, not wavering in his stance. The chill in his voice was still there, and Hermione could see the effect it had on Greyback. As someone who was obviously prone to rage, Draco’s calm demeanor must irritate him to no end.

Greyback snarled again, staring at Draco a moment longer before turned his gaze back to Hermione with a sneer. “I’ll be seeing you pet, mark my words.”

A flash of light made Hermione start and she watched as Greyback once again flew backwards, striking the tree and sliding down it to rest on the ground. He was out cold, she observed as she stood in shock. Draco had his wand raised, glaring down at the man.

“I told you not to look at her.” Draco said quietly, lowering his wand and slipping it back into his jacket pocket.

Hermione stared down at Greyback. His head lolled to his chest and Hermione felt the sudden urge to kick him. Her heart was still racing from the events and she itched to run a hand through her hair. She was still looking at Greyback when Draco turned to her. She glanced over at the movement and saw some of the hardness fade from his face.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked her tentatively, staying where he stood.

Hermione nodded still processing everything that had happened, “Yes. Thank you.” Her voice was quiet, and she took a deep breath, calming her nerves.

Draco nodded, his greys eyes never leaving hers. They stood in silence for a few moments before he sighed, pulling at the bowtie at his neck.

Hermione felt a sudden rush of gratitude towards him; she knew exactly what Greyback was capable of. Several months ago, an order member had been attacked by him, tearing her almost to shreds in his animalistic rage. Hermione had been in the hospital that night, had worked furiously to help the witch before she finally succumbed to her wounds. Yes, she knew exactly what the man was capable of.

“Draco,” She began again, stepping towards him and reaching out to grip his arm. “I mean it, thank you.”

He glanced down at her hand on his arm before meeting her gaze again. “You’re welcome.”

He glared down at the still unconscious man before steering Hermione away, the hand on her back cool in comparison to warmth of it earlier. They made their way back down the path and across the lawn towards the terrace, the music gradually growing louder the closer they got. Draco paused in his movements as they reached the edge of the marble steps, turning back to her as he let his hand fall away.

“You should know that Theo knows about you.” He said simply, as if an afterthought.

Hermione’s brows raised at this. She was starting to wonder just how many people he had told but saw the corner of his mouth twitch.

“Pansy.” He said in simple explanation and Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. She knew that the other witch’s involvement and knowledge about her identity was going to cause problems. This mission was already too involved to have to worry about Pansy running her mouth off to everyone she knew.

“Don’t worry, he’s not directly involved in any of Voldemort’s dealings. Prefers to work under his father’s business.” Draco said, sensing her apprehension.

“She can’t keep telling people.” Hermione said, flashing her eyes to the bright movement inside the ballroom.

Draco nodded, keeping his eyes on her face. “She won’t. Theo’s is a… particular friend of hers.”

Hermione snorted and looked up at him, understanding exactly what type of friend he was. The man had all but oozed sexual tension when she had seen him speaking to Pansy earlier and the witch certainly wasn’t being subtle as she ran a suggestive hand down his chest. She understood now why Draco had said the arrangement between him and Pansy wasn’t going to happen.

She sighed, supposing that it may be good to have more people on their side that weren’t in the order.

“Do you trust him?” Hermione asked, tilting her head inquiringly at Draco.

“Yes.” He answered without hesitation. “He’s not a particular fan of the war. Would have abdicated with Blaise if it weren’t for Pansy.”

Hermione furrowed her brows at the mention of her fellow healer. Blaise never really talked about his time with Voldemort’s regime, only that he had seen things that made him understand quite quickly that the order needed to win. He had never mentioned his friends though, only mentioning them when he wasn’t paying attention to what he was saying. Hermione had tried to get him to talk about what had happened before he fled, but Blaise wasn’t one to reminisce on the past.

Hermione sighed and raised her hand to run through her hair, pausing only when she remembered that it was held together with pins and magic. Feeling suddenly very tired, she looked back up to Draco. “Is it alright if we leave?” She asked. “My social tolerance is reaching it’s limit.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and she wished momentarily that he would just smile at her. Draco nodded, “Of course.”

They made their way back into the ballroom, weaving through the crowds gathered at the edge of the edge of the room. They paid their respects to Mr. Parkinson, graciously thanking him for the invitation, though Hermione could hear the edge in Draco’s voice as he spoke to the man.

As they made their way out of the large room towards the main entrance, Hermione caught Theo Nott eye as they passed him and he winked at her, the smirk on his face quite obvious. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea that he knew, Hermione thought, remembering the Casanova’s tendency to run his mouth in school.

Once outside, Draco gripped her hand and turned on the spot, pulling her with him back to the Manor. Once back in the oddly comforting space, Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and pulled off the gold ring. Even though she couldn’t actually see the changes the ring inflicted, she never quite felt like herself when she was wearing it.

Draco watched the shift in her features and let his eyes sweep over the now familiar brown curls and eyes that appeared in front of him. She pulled at her hair, loosening it from the braid that it had been held in all evening.

With a slight shock he realized how beautiful she was, something he hadn’t thought about since the Yule Ball when he had watched her with Victor Krum. She as an attractive woman in general, her features almost fairy-like in their delicateness. But there was a strength about her that he found even more intriguing, and he knew that she had seen things no 23-year-old should have seen.

Hermione tilted her head at the expression on Draco’s face as he stared at her. His grey eyes were the warmest she had ever seen them, and his unguarded expression made his face look years younger.

“What?” She asked.

The word snapped him out of his thoughts, and he blinked at her, immediately his expression shifted back to the control she had become accustomed to. He shook his head, “Nothing, sorry.”

He started to walk away from her but Hermione reached out a hand to stop him. He looked down at her fingers gripping his arm and she only tightened her grip.

“Thank you for tonight.” Hermione said, taking a step closer to him.

He inclined his head to her, but she still didn’t let go of his arm.

“You’re a good man, Draco.” Hermione said, watching his brows furrow at her words. She knew he didn’t consider himself to be one, but his actions over the past few weeks, and especially tonight provide it to her. “You are.” She affirmed, standing up on her toes to press her lips to his cheek.

It was if a shock went through her at the contact and her lips tingled in response. Pulling back, she slowly lowered down, staring up at him with wide eyes. He must have felt something too as his own eyes held a hint of surprise as he looked back at her.

Hermione started as, without warning, his arm snaked out and gripped her waist, pulling her to him as he lowered his head. His lips were warm and soft as they met hers, demanding with their pressure.

It took her a moment to recover before she returned the kiss, wrapped her arms about his neck as his hands gripped her waist. The electricity sparked once again between them and Hermione felt her heart speed up as their lips moved together. The pressure on her back increased and she raised up on her toes, pressing against his chest.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it had started, both of them pulling back in the same moment. Their arms were still around each other as their eyes met. Hermione felt a bit like she was in shock, her gaze dropping to his lips and her breath came out slowly. The corner of his mouth twitched as he saw her eyes drop, and Hermione took a step back, dropping her hands from his neck.

“It’s probably best if we pretend that never happened.” Hermione said quietly after a moment of silence, meeting his eyes again.

His mouth twitched again, but he nodded. She was right, he knew that, but the just-kissed appearance of her lips was driving him in a very different direction. It had been a long time since he had kissed anyone, but he certainly wasn’t a monk. Kissing her had felt like a breath of fresh air, like a lifeline in the darkness that had encased his world for the past eight years.

He dropped his hands from her waist and Hermione felt the loss of heat immediately. She watched him as inclined his head to her, giving her one last look before turning and walking out of the room. Her eyes followed him and as soon as he was out of her sight, she let out a long breath.

This wasn’t why she was here, she reminded herself, bringing her fingers up to touch her lips that still tingled with the aftereffects of the kiss. A shiver ran through her and gooseflesh broke over her arms as she membered the feel of Draco’s mouth against hers. She had wanted it, more than anything in that moment and would have no doubt continued down that path if it hadn’t been for the small nagging voice in her mind.

She sighed and hitched up the front of her dress in her hand, keeping it out of her way as she followed Draco out of the room and up the stairs. His door was closed when she passed by and she paused for a moment, wondering if his mind was as scrambled as hers was at the moment. She almost knocked on the door but remembered her words from the drawing room. She would pretend, she thought, they both would if they were going to make it out of this alive.

***

Several hours later after tossing and turning in the large expansive bed, she sat bolt upright, feeling her skin chill as she remembered something Draco had seen earlier that night. Her breath caught in her throat and she all but jumped out of bed, racing down the hall to pound on Draco’s door.

Fenir Greyback Similar to how I'm picturing Pansy's dress, maybe with more sparkles :) 

How I'm picturing Theo *sigh*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Curious if anyone caught what Draco said? Leave me your guesses in the comments! I likely won't confirm or deny until the next chapter is posted but I'd love to hear your thoughts :)  
> Hope everyone is staying safe and healthy. FYI I was reassigned at work today to help out with the COVID response at my state's health department, so posting may slow down a bit but trust that I am committed to finishing this story.


	16. Chapter 16

It took several minutes of banging on Draco’s door before he appeared, looking quite annoyed when he finally opened the door. His blond hair was sticking up at all angles and he squinted at her in the soft light of the hallway. He had obviously been woken from a deep sleep as there were faint pink lines on his cheek.

For a moment Hermione was distracted by the pale skin of his chest. He was dressed only in a pair of boxers and with their recent kiss still fresh in her mind, the sight of him without a shirt affected her more than it had before. She needed to act with her own advice and pretend nothing had ever happened.

“What Granger?” Draco asked, the annoyance quite evident in his voice as he glared at her.

Hermione hoped with everything she had that she had misheard him in the garden, hoped that she had hallucinated the words in her fear of Greyback. But she had to know.

“Earlier in the garden, you said something about how Voldemort didn’t need another pet.” Hermione began, the look of confusion only increasing on Draco’s face.

“What are you talking about? You know, if you wanted to continue our actions earlier all you had to do was ask, no need to come up with some grand plan to see me half naked.” His tired smirk would have been enduring if the urgency she felt wasn’t more pressing.

She repressed the urge to slap him fully awake. Choosing to not address his comments, Hermione glared at him. “In the garden you said something about Voldemort not needing a dog because he had a snake.”

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair, giving her an incredulous look as he realized she wasn’t going to drop it. “What about it? Looking for a snake supplier?”

She let out a shaky breath, feeling both elation and absolute dread at the same time. “He has a snake.” Draco nodded, raising his brows at her. “But Neville killed the snake at Hogwarts.”

“So?” Draco asked, longing for the comfort of his bed instead of the chilly hallway air that was making the skin on his chest break out in gooseflesh. “Neville killed Naga and now Voldemort only has Nagini.”

He said it so simply, but the words took Hermione’s breath away and she felt lightheaded. Everything they had done that last year, all of the time and effort they had spent tracking down every horcrux that Voldemort had made, tracking them down and destroying them, was all for nothing. The amount of heartache and stress that they had all endured had been inconsequential. Because they had messed up.

“Hermione what is it?” Draco asked, his eyes narrowing in concern as her face went pale. Her actions were concerning, and he suddenly felt like this was more important than he thought.

She met his eyes. “We didn’t finish it.” Her voice was small, and he furrowed his brows, not understanding what was going on.

As if stung by a bee, she startled, the fear and anguish in her features turned to the look of determination that he had become accustomed to from her. Her brown eyes hardened and she set her mouth in a grim line.

“Get dressed.” She said, sharply.

“Wh-what?” His confusion was back in full force. “It’s the middle of the bloody night, I’m going back to bed.”

Her brows rose and he wanted to laugh at the motherly look of admonishment. “You’re going to get dressed and then we are going to go.”

His own brows rose in response. “And why would I do that?”

She wanted to laugh at his reaction but only allows a soft smile. “Because I know how to defeat Voldemort.”

She left him with the shocked look on his face, enjoying the momentary feeling of being in control. Ever since she had agreed to work with him on the mission, he had been calling the shots. Warning against helping her friends when he was the one who had hesitated. It felt good to finally have the upper hand on the smug Draco Malfoy. 

She had already turned and started back to her bedroom by the time he called out to her. “Where are we going?”

“Headquarters.” She threw over her shoulder as she went. She had disappeared before he had the time to clarify. Staring after her in disbelief he stood in his doorway for a moment longer, finally sighing before making his way to his wardrobe. If Granger claimed she knew how to kill Voldemort, he wasn’t going to question her.

Hermione dressed at light speed, her mind a rush with the realization she had made. She needed to get to Harry, needed to go home. She was back out in the hallway within a matter of minutes, annoyed immediately that Draco wasn’t waiting for her.

She stepped up to rap on his door again, but it opened just as she was raising her fist to pound. He flinched at her hand in front of his face and raised his brows at her.

“No need to hit me, Granger. I think we’ve reached our quota of that in our lifetime.”

She wasn’t especially in the mood for sarcasm, huffing out a breath. At least he was dressed.

“Let’s go.” At his look of apprehension, she sighed. “I promise I’ll explain everything but right now I need to talk to Harry.”

He stared at her for a moment longer, almost as if he was deciding if it was really worth it. Finally, as if reaching a decision, he sighed and nodded. They went down the stairs to his study, disappearing in the flames of the floo.

Grimmauld Place was silent and dark when they arrived, as it should be Draco thought with a sigh remembering the warmth of his own bed waiting for him back at the Manor. Hermione was already making her way up the stairs, the wooden steps creaking as she took them two at a time. He followed her slowly, reaching the third floor only to hear her pounding on one of the doors in a long hallway. Good to know it wasn’t just his sleep she cared about disturbing.

The door opened a minute later and a very disheveled looking Harry Potter stood on the other side, blinking at the sudden intrusion. Draco sympathized with him but found sudden amusement in Potter’s appearance.

“Hermione, what--?” Harry, squinted at her and Draco could tell he was trying to decide if this was a dream.

“Harry, we didn’t get them all.”

For a moment Potter looked confused, still coming out from the drudges of sleep. Then as if her words had set off a bomb in his head, his eyes widened, and a look of shock crossed his face. “Are you sure?” Hermione nodded. “How do you know?”

“We need to get Ron.” She said simply, shaking her head at him before moving down the hall to pound on yet another door. It was a miracle that she didn’t wake everyone else up in the house. Harry watched after her before noticing that Draco was there. He raised his eyebrows at the blond leaning against the hall wall before turning back into his room to get dressed.

Several minutes later, the four of them were sat around the table in the kitchen, trying to stay as quiet as they could. Something that Draco found amusing given Hermione’s grand entrance into the place. Ron was grumbling about being woken up and Draco smirked, loving how childlike he was acting.

“Alright Hermione, what is going on?” Harry asked, getting right to the point given the urgency of her arrival.

Hermione appreciated the bluntness, almost bursting at the seams to share their discovery. “Right, so last night Draco and I went to a party at the Parkinson’s mansion—” Ron scoffed and was met with a glare from Hermione.

“Anyways, Greyback was there.”

“He didn’t recognize you, did he?” Harry interrupted remembering with panic the werewolf they had encountered in one of the worst nights of their lives. Hermione huffed in annoyance at yet another interruption.

“No, he didn’t. Now if you’d all please just shut it, I could get to the point.” Her two friends looked appropriately abashed and Draco found he was quite enjoying the interactions. It reminded him of the squabbling he had witnessed at Hogwarts between the three, something that always brought great enjoyment to him.

“No, he didn’t recognize me, I was using George’s disguise. But he was bothering me, and Draco stepped in. During the altercation Draco made a comment about how Voldemort didn’t need a dog when he already had a snake.”

Ron snickered with laughter, obviously missing the point of the explanation as he found the insult to Fenir Greyback funny. While he laughed, Hermione kept her eyes on Harry who stared at her with a look of comprehension.

“But Neville?” Potter asked and Hermione nodded, grateful that he was understanding the significance.

“He had two snakes, Harry. Draco confirmed it. The one that was killed at Hogwarts was Naga, the second one. Nagini is still alive.”

Ron stopped laughing at this and his expression changed into one of horror. “What? The fucking snake is still alive?”

Hermione nodded, the grave look on her face once again made confusion surface in Draco. “I’m sorry,” He interjected leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands calmly on the table. He was tiring of feeling like important things were happening around him without his knowledge. “But what the hell does a snake have to do with anything? Let alone killing Voldemort?”

Hermione glanced over at him and opened her mouth as if to speak, but then turned to look at Harry and exchanged a look that Draco felt conveyed an entire conversation. Harry nodded finally and Hermione took a deep breath.

“Have you heard of a horcrux?” She asked, turning her attention back to Draco.

He considered the word for a moment, finding it familiar but unsure where he had heard it before. “I think so.” Hermione looked surprised at this. “But I don’t remember what it is.”

“It’s an object that houses a fragment of an individual’s soul, in this case, Voldemort’s.” She explained.

“So, you think the snake is a horcrux?” Draco asked, glancing around at the other two the find his question confirmed by the grim look on their face. “Voldemort’s horcrux.”

“Yes. And it explains why none of the attempts on Voldemort’s life have been fatal, including Harry’s.” She sent a glance at her friend and Harry’s face tightened.

“So, Voldemort is invincible, that’s really your grand answer?” Draco asked, the frustration building within him.

“No, he’s not.” Harry said, leaning back in the rickety chair. “We destroyed six other horcruxes the year we were gone from school.”

“Six?” Draco asked, his brows raised in shock. “You’re telling me Voldemort split his soul into seven pieces?” Hermione nodded and Draco felt slightly ill at the process of splitting one’s soul.

“And if you destroy all of them then Voldemort, he’d be un-immortal?” 

Hermione appreciated how quickly he was grasping the information. She had had to explain it four times to Ron at the beginning of their hunt and at least twice the rest of the order when they had initially told them.

“Yes. And the word is mortal.” He rolled his eyes at her, but she saw the slight twitch of his mouth.

“Okay, so we kill the snake.”

Ron scoffed and shook his head at Draco’s naivety. “If only it were that simple. I’m assuming Voldy keeps the snake pretty close now-a-days?”

The Weasel was right, Draco thought with annoyance. He hadn’t seen the snake since the night McGowan was killed. And before that, the snake rarely made an appearance with Voldemort. It all made sense now though. The knowledge that Voldemort had split his soul into fragments was not surprising to Draco, he never doubted the lengths the wizard would go to stay alive.

“So, it’s pretty safe to say we’re screwed?” He said, letting his eyes fall to the tabletop as he leaned back in his chair.

“Basically.” Ron said, the defeat in his voice quite apparent.

“No,” Hermione interjected, glaring at Ron. She knew that he was tired of the war, tired of losing family members, but he couldn’t give up. Ron and Harry were the tethers that kept her sane throughout the craziness, the people she could count on to be as dedicated to ending all of this as she was. He couldn’t give up, he needed to believe in them.

“We can do it. We’ve been fighting Voldemort since we were twelve, at this point we don’t have a choice.”

Draco met her eyes, still not feeling convinced. “And how do you propose we accomplish this? I haven’t seen the snake in months, and” he let his eyes flick to Harry, “I’m assuming the Dark Lord knows about your previous exploits?”

Harry nodded grimly, remembering the feeling of Voldemort being inside of his head prior to destroying the part of soul that was embedded in him. The pure rage and fear that he had felt from Voldemort when he realized that his horcrux’s were being destroyed had been blinding. Something he was only too grateful to never have to experience again.

“We’d have to get them both at the same time.” Hermione said, her mind racing with the attempt to conjure up some sort of plan.

“How do you figure?” Ron asked, still feeling the doubt from earlier.

Draco scoffed and answered for her. “He’d just make a new one if he knew the snake was gone. The Dark Lord would never let himself be vulnerable.” Hermione nodded in agreement. “But how do you know he hasn’t made more since you destroyed the others?”

“He didn’t have the capacity.” Harry said simply with a shrug. “Dumbledore told me that splitting the soul damages it. Voldemort never knew that it also damages the magical core. He wouldn’t be able to make another one, it would kill him.”

Ron snorted, “Why don’t we just wait for him to try?”

Hermione rolled her eyes at him. “Because he knows it. He knows how vulnerable he is, that’s why he’s been keeping Nagini hidden all of this time. It’s why he doesn’t go out during the fights. Even though he knows he still has a horcrux left and that essentially protect him, he doesn’t put himself in any situation that could be a threat to his life.”

Draco nodded, appreciating her firm assessment of the situation. Her insightfulness as to the Dark Lord’s mentality was surprising, given that she had only been in his direct presence a handful of times. Then again, he reminded himself, she would have had years to conduct research on him and observe Voldemort’s indirect actions. He had seen how Hermione spent her free time and he knew that it sure wasn’t sitting around basking in the sun.

“So, we need to get both of them at the same time. Just like Hogwarts.” Ron said with a sigh. Harry, Hermione and Draco nodded at the same time and Draco saw the slight smile that crept over Hermione’s lips as she noticed the movements.

“So back to the original question, how?” Ron’s dark blue eyes looked between Harry and Hermione, the three of them feeling like they were back at square one in the tent on the run.

“I don’t know.” Hermione said finally, a crease forming on her forehead as she furrowed her brows. It was hard for her to admit that she didn’t know something, though granted it had become easier over the years given the uncertainty that they had faced.

Draco let out a jaw cracking yawn and chuckled as Harry also stifled one. Ron groaned and lowered his head to the table with a slight clunk.

Harry’s sigh cut through the silence and he stood, the legs of his chair scraping against the tiles of the floor. “It took us nine months to figure out how to kill him the first time and it didn’t even work, I doubt we’ll be able to do it in one night.”

Ron heartily agreed, feeling even more exhausted than he had when Hermione had pounded on his door a half hour earlier. Hermione looked between her two friends and sighed, knowing that they were right. She knew when to give up, when to step back from the problem, or patient, and take a break.

Sensing the commencement of the little meeting, Draco stood as well, stretching his arms out. “Well this has been an insightful meeting, but I’d really like to get back to my bed now.”

“You may as well just stay here.” Harry said, looking over at the man. “We’ll have to call the order to meeting in the morning anyways and you should be there. They’ve been monitoring the frequency of floo's in the neighborhood so the lower we keep the number the better.”

Draco sent an exasperated look back at Hermione who shrugged. Of course she wouldn’t object, this was her home. But this place made him feel antsy, like he needed to high tail it to the nearest deserted island.

“There are plenty of extra rooms.” Hermione added, not so helpfully. If he wasn’t so tired, he probably would have argued more, but the only thought on his mind was the bloody snake and getting back into bed.

Running a hand through his already messy hair, Draco sighed and nodded. He followed the three of them back up the stairs and Hermione led him further down the hall and stopped in front of a closed door.

“This was Regulus’s old room. Seems fitting.” She said with a hint of an ironic smile before pushing open the door.

It was a dark and forbearing room, but at least it was clean. In the first year of being fully underground, the trio along with the Weasley’s had swept through the house, clearing it for the functional use of its residents. It had been a large chore but with Mrs. Weasley’s housekeeping expertise, it had been accomplished as efficiently as possible.

“Cozy.” Draco said offhandedly as he stepped in and lit a couple of lanterns with a flick of his wand.

“Not really.” Hermione said, still standing at the door as she looked around the familiar room. “Anyways, bathroom is down the hall. You already know where Harry and Ron’s rooms are and I’m up a floor, first door on the left if you need anything.”

“Doubtful, but I’ll remember.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and snorted. To think that not eight hours ago, she had kissed this insufferable man. Being back in Grimmauld Place was slowly clearing her senses and bringing her back to reality. The kiss had felt like a dream at this point, like something out of one of the crime shows her mother used to watch where the main characters became so engrossed in their investigation that they were blind to the rest of the world.

“You’re welcome Malfoy.” She said, the tinge of annoyance quite present in her voice.

He turned at the tone and the corner of his mouth twitched. She saw it and grew even more annoyed by the slight twinge she felt in her stomach at the site. She narrowed her eyes briefly at him before turning from the door and making her way up the stairs to her own room.

It was one of the smaller rooms in the place, but she enjoyed the coziness of it. At least the coziness she had created in it after she had claimed it as her own. The dark blue walls were still present from the original state of the room but that was the only thing dark about it. The plush bed was the result of multiplying charms on the soft down coverlet she had brought with her. It was topped with a soft, light cream comforter that used to feel soft under her fingers but after the luxury of her room at the manor, now felt like sandpaper.

She barely bothered changing back into the pajamas she had stored here before crawling into bed, trying not to let her mind wander to the man that was sleeping almost directly below her. It both bothered and comforted her that he was here. She never felt fully at ease at the Manor and it felt nice to interact with him not under the duress of his childhood home, the place where she had been tortured looming over him. 

Annoyed again by the thought of wanting to interact with Malfoy, Hermione turned over roughly in the bed, sighing when the slit of moonlight fell over her face. Bloody hell, she thought, it was Malfoy she was thinking about. She sighed and tried to control her thoughts, but after several minutes of trying, she gave up, enjoying the memory of his lips on hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been feeling a bit stuck lately, trying to route my course for the rest of this story. If any of you guys have any suggestions/desires of anything you'd like included, I'm more that happy to oblige :)


	17. Chapter 17

She woke feeling more rested than she had all month. There really was something to be said about sleeping in your own bed. The sun was barely visible above the crest of houses that lined the opposite side of the street when Hermione glanced out from her bed. Given the early hour, she assumed no one else would be up yet, which meant the shower was free.

Slipping quietly down the hall and stairs to the floor below, Hermione smirking at the loud snores she heard coming from Ron’s room. That was something she did not miss from sleeping across a tent from him. She and Harry had almost kicked him out in the cold plenty of times but decided that his foul mood would only worsen if they did.

The floorboards creaked slightly under her step and she gasped in surprise when the last door on the way to the bathroom opened suddenly. Malfoy stood on the other side, looking much more put together than he had when she had woken him hours ago at the Manor.

“Malfoy.” Hermione said quietly, suddenly quite aware of the revealing nature of her pajamas in comparison to his neat state of dress. “You’re up early.”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned against the door, regarding her. “No. Being woken up an hour ago but what I can only assume is a tornado in the room next door is early.”

She couldn’t keep the slight grin from her face as another loud snore filled the hallway. “It’s called a silencing charm, use it.” In the mess of the night before Draco must have forgotten that he was a wizard and had access to this wonderful thing called magic.

“Why can’t he just use _Muffliato_ on his room?” Draco asked, feeling mildly annoyed at his mistake.

“Ron thinks his snoring acts as a bit of an early detection for the rest of us.” She chuckled at Draco’s incredulous look. “He says that if he stops snoring in the middle of the night then we’ll know he’s being murdered and should show up at his door immediately. Unfortunately for him, the silencing charms on the rest of everyone’s rooms would make his efforts less than worthwhile.”

Another snore broke the air and Hermione raised her brows at Draco who simply shook his head and sighed. “Anyways, I’m heading to shower. You’re welcome to anything in the kitchen though be warned that the chocolate cereal is Ron’s and he will kill you if you touch it.”

She grinned at him before turning and continuing down the hall towards the bathroom door. The familiar surrounding were making her more relaxed and she found teasing Malfoy was quite enjoyable when it wasn’t under the gloomy chill of the manor.

The shower felt heavenly and she was happy to find that her own stock of products were still partially full. Ginny had worked with her in a moment of boredom a few years ago to figure out a mixture that would work on both of their hair, and Hermione had been immensely satisfied with how well it tamed her curls.

She left the bathroom in a hurry several minutes later, wrapped in a towel as she hadn’t bought any clothes down with her. The air was chilly against her damp skin and she reached the stairs without incident.

Her hair was still wet when she got down to the kitchen. The chocolaty, brown cereal Malfoy was currently spooning into his mouth from his seat at the table caught her eye and she raised her brows at him.

Catching her look, he smirked at her. “I like to live dangerously.”

“I think already knew that.” She replied as she pulled out a bag of bagels from the cupboard. They sat in silence and ate, both of them reading the recent Daily Prophet’s that they hadn’t had time to read otherwise.

It was less than an hour later when the house started to wake up, the sound of doors opening and soft voices drifted down to them. Hermione had her legs folded under her on the chair as she worked through a wizarding crossword on the last page of the paper. Given that the prophet was now run by Voldemort’s men, the clues were along the line of ‘Only ones deserving of magic’, and ‘Worst headmaster of Hogwarts’. It wasn’t very difficult to say the least.

“Wood type of the master’s wand?” Hermione asked, the final line stumping her.

Draco replied without looking up at her from his own perusal of the paper. “Yew.”

Hermione gave a note of pleasure and filled in the final blank row with satisfaction. Neither noticed the couple standing at the doorway of the kitchen as they sipped their coffee.

“Well isn’t this cozy.” Harry said as he entered the room with a smirk. He looked much more alert than he had the night prior and Hermione couldn’t help but notice that both his and Ginny’s hair were wet, even though she had only heard the shower turn on a single time. Talk about cozy…

Hermione shot him a glare in return for the look he gave her as he walked behind Malfoy to the icebox. Having fulfilled the role of each other’s siblings had made for an interesting dynamic between the two. Both were essentially orphans, clinging to the only family they had left.

Ginny slid into the seat next to Hermione and hugged her. She looked a bit better from when Hermione had seen her last, thought the skittish aura was still present. “I wish you would have woken me when you got here last night.”

Hermione smiled warmly at Ginny when they pulled apart. “I know how much sleep means to you right now.”

Draco furrowed his brows at the look of surprise that washed over the Weaslette’s face and couldn’t help but wonder if it meant something. Harry cleared his throat as he sat down, drawing the attention back to him. He looked between the two witches and then over to Draco.

“I filled Ginny in on everything that we talked about. Hopefully once everyone else arrives we can figure out our next steps.”

Hermione nodded and pulled the coffee mug that Harry had slid over to Ginny in her direction instead. Ginny made a small noise of protest but was silenced by a brow raise from the other witch. With a sigh Ginny got up to fetch herself a cup of tea instead. There definitely was something going on, Malfoy thought.

The rest of the order slowly trickled into the kitchen and dining room, several of them greeting Hermione warmly while eyeing Draco with apprehension. He certainly felt out of place in the warm, bustling environment, wishing he was back in his empty, cold study reading an up-to-date newspaper.

Still, it was entertaining to watch the various interactions that occurred around the room. He especially enjoyed getting to see a different side of Granger. He knew that living in his house under the constant threat of being summed by the Dark Lord was getting to her a bit and as strong as she was, living under such conditions would take their tole on anyone.

Everyone settled in after a while, each taking their place around the large dining room. Hermione was pleased to see Luna in her usual spot, looking much healthier than she had those weeks ago in the hospital bed. The blond sent Hermione an ethereal smile when she caught her looking in her direction. Blaise did well, Hermione thought with a hint of pride in her fellow healer.

Just as she thought it, the man in question waltzed through the door. She looked up at him in surprise, not used to seeing him at these meetings. Then another thought came over her and she started to rise from her seat.

“Sorry I’m late—” Blaise said just before his eyes fell on Malfoy and the smile that had been on his face dropped like a rock. “What the hell is he doing here?”

“Blaise.” Hermione said, her voice soft in warning. She knew only a bit of their history, but she knew that Blaise harbored very strong, angry feelings for his old friend. That much was evident on the man’s face now as he glared at Malfoy.

“Nice to see you too, Zabini.” Draco said slowly, still keeping his seat at the table.

Blaise just glared at him but rounded the table to take the empty seat across from Malfoy, right next to Hermione. He leaned over to say something in her ear and Hermione nodded. Draco observed the interaction, noting the familiarity between the two healers. His attention was drawn away eventually by Lupin calling the group to order from the head of the table.

Hermione and Harry filled the rest of the order in on their late-night discovery. Draco felt more than a few glances in his direction during Hermione’s description of how he had attacked Greyback. He honestly hadn’t thought much about it at the time. At the party when he noticed Hermione had gone missing from the room, a sense of dread had forced him to go looking for her.

It was an instinct to defend her against the werewolf, but the though of the man’s nose buried in her neck still unnerved him. He had seen the victims of Greyback’s attacks on multiple occasions and the thought of Hermione’s neck being ripped into by those teeth was more than unsettling.

Lupin was sitting at the head of the table, completely silent as he rubbed a hand over his eyes. The man looked years older than his true age, only intensified more with the deep scars that marred his face. The same look of fatigue was echoed in everyone around the room as no one else spoke. Draco looked around at each of them, seeing the tinge of defeat.

The realization made him slightly angry. This was supposed to be the group that defeated the Dark Lord, they better start acting like it. “So what’s next?” He asked bluntly, breaking the silence.

Hermione met his eyes with a look of appreciation, she understood his tone completely. Having been down in the caves and seeing the extend of Voldemort’s control over his followers, she understood only too well the risk he was taking in helping them.

“Well, Mr. Malfoy, you’re the one most intimately involved with their side. What do you suggest?” Kingsley asked.

Blaise snorted at this and Malfoy shot him a glare. The man smirked back at him, leaning back in his chair in a gesture of defiance but made a gesture for Draco to continue. Hermione glanced between the two men and sighed, knowing that the tension would have to be pacified for the moment.

“Whatever we decide, it needs to be enough to draw Voldemort out of hiding.” She said, drawing attention off the altercation and onto her. “Malfoy and I should be able to get to the snake if Voldemort continues to keep it hidden and apart from him. But we need to separate the two, otherwise Voldemort will know exactly what we are doing.”

She hated the idea of not being there when Harry defeated Voldemort once and for all, but she knew the importance of her position of having access to the inner workings of the snake pit. Lupin nodded at her words.

“So what is big enough to draw him out?”

“Harry.” Hermione said simply, sending an apologetic glance at her friend. “You should hear the way they talk about him down there. Time has done nothing to lessen their hatred of him.”

“Good to know my reputation still holds.” Harry said smugly, meeting her look with a slight smile that made her want to roll her eyes. 

Ron snorted and raised his brows at his best friend. “The boy who continues to live, must grate them, huh?”

“It does.” Hermione agreed, her voice a grave contrast to the joking tone. “You have no idea how much they hate you down there, Harry. When Malfoy didn’t attack you during the hospital raid, I honestly thought they were going to kill him for it. Not taking the opportunity to harm you is viewed almost as negatively as interacting with a muggle-born.”

“And yet he’s still here.” Blaise said with a glare in Draco’s direction.

Feeling uncomfortable being the object of discussion, Draco shrugged and hoped Hermione would drop it. “Must be lucky.”

Hermione huffed. “I wouldn’t exactly call being tortured for three hours lucky, Malfoy.”

He shrugged again and pointedly turned his attention back to Lupin. The number of curious eyes on him at this point was disconcerting and he wished he could get up and leave. It was one thing being in the higher ranks of Voldemort’s regime, at least there he knew that he was respected and feared. Here, it felt like there were no boundaries in the interactions between members.

“So we need to rile them up enough and dangle Harry in their face?” George asked, picking up on Malfoy’s unease. “Sounds easy enough. We could just tie him up in the woods and send them a message like ‘Hey Voldy! We surrender. Here’s Potter. Love, Order’.”

Ginny snickered at her brother and he shot her a happy grin. Since the loss of Fred, the two of them had grown very close, in fact, the entire Weasley clan had drawn together in solidarity. They communicated more, saw each other more, made an effort to include everyone in any significant life events. Hermione loved the dynamic between the family members but couldn’t help but to feel a little jealous. She missed her family.

“As much as we all appreciate your enthusiasm George,” Lupin sent the redhead a mischievous grin, “I think offering Harry up as a human sacrifice would be ill advised.”

George shrugged but smirked. “Can’t say I didn’t try.”

The group debated different approaches for the next two hours, each suggestion being shot down because of one reason or another. It turned out Draco’s presence there really was invaluable to the planning stage as he was able to offer different approaches that he knew would be the most and least effective.

In the end, they reached a tentative plan. One that would goad Voldemort into action. The sense of anticipation that hung over the group was contagious and Draco found himself feeling almost excited. He wouldn’t go as far as to say he was hopeful, that would take the defeat of Voldemort to accomplish, but he felt the general giddiness of a new plan.

The plan was to turn the knowledge that Harry, Ron, Hermione and Dumbledore had gained from hunting for Voldemort’s horcruxes against him. Taunt him with that knowledge until the wizard was forced to act.

The group started to disband with a sense of finality, plans in motion to start gathering resources and forces. Blaise and Hermione were deep in conversation across the table form Draco, going over the Burrow hospital and preparations that would need to be made in order to ready it for the final stage.

The glares Blaise occasionally shot in Draco’s direction didn’t go unnoticed by Hermione and by the sixth or seventh one, she sighed.

“Do we need to move to a different room?” She asked suddenly, interrupting Blaise’s speech about the lack of potion ingredients. Draco looked over at her, surprised by her blunt address of the situation between him and Blaise.

“Mia..” Blaise began and Draco raised his brow at the nickname. If the closeness between the two healers wasn’t enough evidence that there was something personal going on, then the use of the name certainly confirmed it.

“No, Blaise, honestly. We all need to be able to work together and it’s not going to go well if you both can’t even be in the same room as each other.”

“We wouldn’t be working together.” Draco said, keeping his voice relaxed. “Opposite sides remember? Besides, it’s not really any of your business what happened between us, Granger.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him just as Blaise spoke. “You don’t get to talk to her like that, Malfoy.”

The corner of Malfoy’s lips twitched, and Hermione shook her head, knowing that he was enjoying goading his old friend just as he enjoyed goading her all throughout their schooling. As much of a fuss that he made being here, she knew that he enjoyed the constant drama that was present within the order. It certainly was a bit of a change from the quiet, tranquil environment of the Manor.

“How you’ve changed Blaise, standing up for Granger.” Draco said, ignoring Hermione glare at him.

“Yeah, it’s a bit of a shift from torturing innocent people for fun, right Malfoy?” Blaise shot back with the same cool tone.

“Okay, that’s enough.” Hermione said, sighing as she stood from the table. “I’m sorry I brought it up. I really don’t care what happened, I just need to know that whatever it was isn’t going to get in the way of our plans.”

The two men stared at each other. Where others would glare at the person they were fighting with, the Slytherin way seemed to be a challenge of who could keep the most aloof expression. Unsurprisingly, Blaise broke first. He huffed out a breath and nodded.

“It won’t be a problem.”

Draco tilted his head and smirked at the healers. “None at all.”

Hermione glanced once again between the two before sighing and shaking her head. “Not my problem.” Draco heard her mutter as she left the table leaving Blaise and Draco still in a standoff.

After a moment, Draco leaned back in his chair. “You and Granger seem close.”

Blaise glared at him but then echoed his relaxed posture. “Jealous?”

“Of your oddly out of place relationship with her? Not in the slightest.” Draco replied easily but felt a flicker of annoyance at Blaise’s smirk. After another moment, Draco sighed and tapped his fingers on the table. “Pansy sends her regards by the way. Theo too.”

Blaise’s expression softened a bit at the mention of his two friends. It had been the one thing he regretted leaving behind in his old life. Not seeing his friends any more was difficult, but he had found new friends within the order that helped fill the void. Nevertheless, “How are they?” He asked, trying not to show the true level of his interest in his tone.

Draco shrugged. “Fine. Skirting around her father like usual, but they seem happy.”

“Well they’ll be the only ones then.” Blaise said with what looked to Draco like a wistful expression down the table. He followed the direction of the look and was surprised to see Luna Lovegood sitting at the far end of the table talking to Neville. Another glance back at Blaise’s expression of longing confirmed what Draco had initially thought and he snorted.

Blaise turned his glare back to Draco at the noise. “Really? The loon?”

“Can you refrain from insulting my friends any further?” Blaise asked coolly. “She’s worth a hundred times more than you are.”

“I never said she wasn’t, just thought that you would have gone for someone more severe.” Draco said with a smirk. “Never pictured you as the ethereal type.”

“Well you don’t exactly know me anymore, do you?” Blaise shot back. Yes, Draco was enjoying the back and forth, and it seemed that Blaise was too given the slight upward twitch at the corner of his mouth. Another Slytherin characteristic, Hermione would have noted.

***

Blaise pulled Hermione aside later as final assignments were made for the implementation of the first steps of the plan. They made their way up the stairs, not noticing how Draco’s eyes followed them curiously.

The potion stock room on the top floor was a quiet secluded spot Hermione used sometimes to clear her head. She and Blaise entered the room together before she turned to face him. Knowing him, she knew that he would have questions about her time at the Manor.

“So, how are you? Really?” She was right.

Hermione smiled slightly and ran her hand over the dusty countertop of the brewing bench, apparently in her absence there hadn’t been any visitors to the room.

“I’m okay. Bored out of my mind sometimes but overall I’m okay.”

Blaise nodded and seemed to consider her for a moment. “And this business with Greyback?”

Hermione shook her head quickly. “Nothing happened. Draco got there before anything could and I’m sure with the warning he issued, Greyback will be leaving me alone from now on.”

“He’s persistent, Hermione.” Blaise warned.

“Draco or Greyback?” Hermione asked with a slight tilt of her head.

Blaise let out a breathy chuckle and shook his head, his grin broadening as she smiled up at him. Sighing he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms, burying his nose in her hair. In the month that she had been gone, he had missed her. It was odd and exhausting working in the hospital without her and he felt the effects every day.

“Just make sure that you’re safe.” He said, feeling her relax in his arms as she had so many times before.

Hermione sighed against his chest and nodded. “I am.”

After another few moments she pulled back and looked up at him. “So, how’s Luna?”

It felt good to relax and joke around with someone, she thought as they discussed the sprite-like witch. Apparently, Blaise had taken steps in the progression of their relationship and finally worked up the nerve to ask her out. Though where they would be ‘going out’, was a mystery to Hermione given the order’s status in hiding.

A knock on the door interrupted their conversation and Blaise glanced over at it annoyed. Malfoy stood on the other side, looking into the room with a bored demeanor.

“I was told you’d be up here.” He said, looking past Blaise into the room at Hermione. “We should get going.”

Hermione looked momentarily deflated, hating the thought of leaving the comforting setting around her. She knew they had tasks to complete in order to help the order start to move on their plans, ones that couldn’t wait.

Resigned, she nodded and followed Draco down the stairs back to the floo, back to the Manor, back to isolation. 


	18. Chapter 18

“So how do you propose we go about our part in all of this?” Hermione asked later that evening when they had finally made it back to the Manor, she shivered slightly in the chilly air of the dining room. Kildy had all but screeched with joy at their return and promised an elaborate dinner. The elf was growing on her, Hermione mused as she watched the little bonnet clad elf dash away.

Hermione and Draco had been tasked with implanting themselves deeper in the pit if they could to learn the location of the snake. In the meantime, Hermione herself had recommended they work to gather a stock of healing potions from within as well to prepare themselves for the final battle.

Digging themselves deeper into the ranks of the Death Eaters wasn’t something Hermione felt all that confident doing especially given her disguise and the ruse she had to keep. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that she was counting on Draco for most of it.

“A thought did occur to me.” He answered her question, somewhat hesitantly, not meeting her eyes. His demeanor made her narrow her eyes in apprehension.

“What?” She asked hesitantly.

Draco sighed and drug a hand through his hair before meeting her eyes. “As I’m sure you know, the Dark Lord is somewhat obsessive about purebloods.” He spoke as though he thought she would bite which would have otherwise been amusing.

“Yes?”

“Well, over the years one thing that my… colleagues.. have found to gain favor with Voldemort is to make a-- well a match. A productive match.” He added.

The confusion was only growing with his words and Hermione huffed slightly, wishing he would just get to the point. Sensing her annoyance, Draco sighed, “The Dark Lord appreciates the effort to grow the pureblood population.”

Finally, his words evidently had their desired meaning understood as Hermione’s eyes widened. “Grow the population? Like with children?”

He finally met her eyes but she couldn’t read anything in them as he inclined his head slightly in agreement. “That is generally how you grow the population.”

She let out a burst of laughter and he looked up at her sharply. “If you are seriously proposing that we have children together just to get Voldemort to like us more, you are bloody insane.”

He glared at her, feeling quite insane at the thought of even being in a situation to make such children with her. “No. Obviously not. I’m saying we act the part when we are down there and in other social settings. You’ve already been portrayed as a pureblood from one of the French families so the match between us would not be unusual. Most already know that you are living in the Manor and any announcements wouldn’t exactly be unexpected.”

She gaped at him. Draco Malfoy was standing in front of her proposing that they act as a couple intending to procreate. She huffed, hating that she could see the logic in his words.

“I also know that the ideal of marriage before children is held quite highly down in the pit.” Draco nodded. “So how do you propose we handle that?”

Draco shrugged but she thought she saw a slight twitch of his lips. “Well we could get just get married and solve it all together.”

Her surprise earlier was nothing compared to what she felt now. Draco would have laughed at the look on her face if he hadn’t been feeling similarly. He was suggesting marriage to none other than Hermione Granger, or Olivia Raniere actually. Marriage was not taken lightly within the pureblood population, and it made him slightly sick to think about it.

He had been considering the idea for a few weeks now, even more so after the kiss they had shared only days prior. One couldn’t deny that they had chemistry, though for most of their lives it was displayed through hatred. They worked well together, read the other’s movements and actions when they were in the cave. If getting higher standing within Voldemort’s ranks was the goal, this was a sure way to do it.

“You’re serious?” Hermione asked, finally closing her mouth and recovering from her shock. “You are truly suggesting that we get married in order to gain favor from Voldemort?”

“No, not truly get married. Just go through the pretense of it for appearance purpose. It’s not like it would be legally binding since I’d be married your alter ego and not you. As soon as this is over, we’d both be released as Olivia doesn’t actually exist.”

She considered this for a moment, going over the technicalities in her mind. The suggestion was beginning to make more and more sense and was becoming harder to deny. She had seen several pregnant witches during her times in the cave and could tell by the more luxurious appearance of their clothing that they were indeed treated favor. It was odd to think of people even bringing children into this environment in the first place, especially just to boost Voldemort’s followers.

She remembered what Draco had told her when they had first met those weeks ago, how he didn’t have a choice in his allegiance given his upbringing. Those poor children being brought in under the rule of Voldemort wouldn’t have the chance to know anything else unless the Order succeeded.

Finally, she spoke again, resigned. “So what would being married get us?”

Draco glanced up at her in surprise. He hadn’t even expected her to consider the suggestion, which is why he didn’t bring it up earlier while they were both surrounded by order members. He would have been murdered on the spot at the suggestion of their princess being married off to a Death Eater.

“You haven’t been around long enough to see it, but the marriage between Death Eaters is more than just a ceremony. It’s viewed as a divine act, bringing together two people who could be responsible for the continuation of a pure blood line. There truly is no greater act of service for the Dark Lord.”

“But how would it allow us to accomplish our tasks?” Hermione replied more urgently. She understood the logistics of marriage and didn’t need them explain as they only made her stomach churn.

“Well for one it would give us more freedom. I’m sure you’ve noticed that we haven’t left the Manor much.” She nodded. “Members of the inner circle are monitored, closely. For some reason he is paranoid that his followers are sneaking off to affiliate themselves with those of un-pure status. Once you’re married that is no longer a consideration and your leash is lengthened.”

She nodded, if they had more freedom to move about then they would have the opportunity to leave England to site out the locations the order had in mind for their plan. They would be able to gather materials and ingredients more easily without any suspicion. She had to admit, the idea was growing in merit.

“How would it work? The marriage portion, I mean.”

Draco gestured for her to sit at the table opposite him, like they were negotiating a contract. She followed suit and sat, folding her hands in front of her. The wind whipped branches of trees against the windowpanes and she could almost smell the scent of rain as it hung in the air around them. A perfect night for selling her soul, she thought.

“There’d be a ceremony,” Draco began, thankful that she hadn’t blown his head off at the suggestion. “Nothing like what muggles have and it involves binding magic. I’ve researched it extensively and the binding is more tied to the names so once Olivia is not needed anymore, the contact will be void.”

“You’ve done research?” Hermione asked, narrowing her brows at him.

He nodded, fully expecting this line of inquisition from her. “Yes. I’ve been thinking about the progression of our ruse for the past month. At some point we were going to have to shift the status quo and this is a way to accomplish that.”

The thoughts racing through her head were deafening and she stared at him. He had been looking into this since the beginning and hadn’t thought to share it with her. She wasn’t upset about it exactly, more shocked that he would even consider tying himself to her in any way.

The echo of the kiss that they had shared made its way into her mind. The thought of kissing him again was surprising but not necessarily unappealing. He was a different person from what he had been in school, and she found that he matched her on an intelligence level, something that Ron never had. His actions in the garden at the Parkinson’s had shown that he was protective of her, cared in some way about her. The kiss afterwards confirmed that.

She knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. They were not meant to be together in any semblance of the word, but if pretending to be married got them closer to their goal then she was willing to do it.

“And so we’d be married.” She said simply, bringing herself back to the situation at hand.

Draco nodded and watched her. The progression of thoughts that had gone through her mind had been evident on her face, almost a show in and of itself. While he had had time to come to terms with the idea, her handling of the suggestion was admirable.

“Yes. We’d be married. It wouldn’t change anything in our interaction with each other up here, but we would have to keep up appearances down there. That’s something you need to be comfortable with.”

Hermione’s eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “I’m not going to fuck you in the shadows if that is what you’re implying Malfoy.”

He smirked at her and let out a chuckle. It hadn’t been what he was implying, though he couldn’t deny that the thought of Granger’s lithe body against his wasn’t exactly off-putting. But he flicked the thoughts away. “Obviously not, Granger. But you’d have to be comfortable with my presence down there. You’ve seen that those people are not exactly shy about the sexuality and connections between one another, we would be expected to do the same.”

“And what exactly would that include? What are your expectations when it comes to a wife?” The bite in her tone was distinct and he tilted his head at her.

“Granger, you would be my wife in name alone, less than that given it’s not even your name. I don’t like this any more than you do. Don’t act like I’m forcing you into this either. If you decide that you’re not comfortable with this, then we won’t do it. It’s only a suggestion.”

The words made her feel temporarily guilty. Deep in her mind there was a thought that he could be doing this on purpose to get to her. He was a Death Eater, she told herself, but he was also someone risking their life to help her and the Order defeat Voldemort.

“I never said I wouldn’t do it.” She replied softly, meeting his eyes full on. “I just need to know what is expected of me?”

His grey eyes held hers for a moment before Draco nodded. Ever the devoted student, he thought, always needing to know how they’ll be graded.

“We’d need to be close when we are down there. How close is something we can decide on later. I’m not going to put you in a situation where you feel uncomfortable, though I also need to know you’re not going to compromise our position if we do this?”

Of course he would think she would, Hermione thought. He had been a tyrant in her life, but obviously she had already proven to him that she could handle being close to him.

“It won’t be a problem.” She said simply.

At this moment Kildy arrived back in the dining room, bringing with her a floating parade of steaming dishes which were promptly laid on the table. It was enough for a large dinner party and Hermione immediately felt guilty about the elf’s hard work going to waste with it just being the two of them.

They ate in silence, occasionally going over minute details of the arrangement and how they would need to present it to Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It was nerve wracking knowing that they were about to take a step that could propel them down the pit even further, put them in more danger if they were to be found out.

At least before if Hermione’s identity were revealed it wasn’t a direct shot at Draco too given their distant connection. The same could be said vice-versa if something were to happen to Draco it wouldn’t be directly tied back to Hermione. If they were married, they would be linked. Draco explained about a couple who had both been killed simply for the actions of the wife.

When dinner was over, Hermione leaned back as the dishes were magically cleared form the table. There was still one more thing.

“We can’t tell the order.” She said, her voice calm but firm.

Draco looked up at her in surprise but then nodded. Of course she wouldn’t want to tell her friends that she was marrying him, it would be viewed as almost a betrayal.

“Of course.” He said simply, nodding.

“They would kill you,” Hermione continued, not really acknowledging his agreement. “It’s one thing for me to work with you in this but to get married to you—”

“I get it.” He said, interrupting her causing her to look up sharply at him. “Obviously my friends will know, though with their knowledge of our… situation, they should understand the purpose of it.”

Hermione nodded and tucked her hair behind her ears. His friends would know. That means Pansy and that means that one of the biggest mouths of the entire wizarding community is not only privy to Hermione’s secret, but also now to the sham marriage that they were entering into.

“Will they be alright with it?” Hermione asked.

Draco nodded without even needing to think. “Yes. They aren’t as, well bigoted towards the Order as your friends are towards Death Eaters. The knowledge itself will not be an issue, especially when it’s explained that it isn’t binding.”

The quip at her friends didn’t go unnoticed but Hermione brushed it away as she nodded.

“Okay. So we’re getting married. When?”

Draco let out a breath as if he had still been waiting for her to finally grasp what they were talking about and explode.

“By the end of the week. I’m not sure when we will be summoned next but it’ll likely be tomorrow. We can make the announcement then. Voldemort isn’t exactly one for patience so the ceremony will likely be performed by Saturday.”

She nodded, running through all of the details in her mind. It seemed silly but she had always pictured what her wedding would be like, and something told her that a Death Eater ceremony is not what she had pictured.

After another few moments she stood, pushing back her chair against the silvery carpet. “Alright. I think I’ll go read for a bit, wrap my head around things.”

He nodded and she left, feeling the slight tremor in her hands at the prospect of being married in four days.

***

He entered the library much later that night, the harsh rain against the side of the window loud in the room as he strode across to the wingback chair Hermione was curled up in. The book in front of her was one he recognized of wizard children tales and he tilted his head at it.

Hermione looked up as he approached, the soft glow of the lamp beside her illuminated his features. He stopped a few feet from her and shuffled his feet, toying with something in his pants pocket.

“What is it?” Hermione asked, seeing odd nervousness.

Draco took a deep breath and pulled something out of his pocket. “It’s a ring.” He held up the small circle and in the slight gleam of the lamplight she could see the sparkle of emerald and diamond stones set in the silver metal. “A family heirloom, but I thought it would do well for the situation.”

She didn’t move, simply stared at him. When he finally cleared his throat, the glaze across her eyes cleared and she blinked several times.

“Sorry. Um, yes, very practical.”

He chuckled at her words and took a step forward, reaching down to take her left hand in his. Her fingers were slim and graceful as he slid the ring over them. It fit perfectly without any adjustment needed, something he furrowed his brows at.

Hermione pulled her hand out of his grasp and stared down at the ring. “It’s lovely.” It really was, she thought as she admired the ring. The rectangular diamond was surrounded by a line of emeralds that glowed deep green in the light. It was a vintage design, something she would have expected her grandmother to have worn. But she found she liked it, even if it were in Slytherin colors.

“It was my great-grandmother’s.” Draco said casually as he also stared down at the ring on her hand. “We can charm the rings you have for the disguise to be silver so they can act as a wedding band when you’re down there.”

Hermione nodded and they both fell silent. Finally, she tucked her hand back in the spine of the book she was reading and looked up at him. “Thank you, it really is beautiful. I’m make sure to take care of it.”

He nodded, though he was looking down at her with an odd expression on his face. Something about it made her want to pull him into a hug, to hold him and find the comfort that they both desperately needed. But she refrained herself. The marriage and their professional relationship needed to stay as separate as possible.

As if thinking the same thoughts, Draco straitened his back. “Well goodnight. Be ready tomorrow.”

She nodded and watched as he left the room. As soon as he was gone, she held her hand out again. There was no shame in admiring the beautiful ring, even if she only was going to wear it until they defeated Voldemort.

***

Draco was right; Voldemort did summon them the next day. The cave was just as cold and damp as Hermione remembered it being and she pulled the black jacket around her, thankful that Olivia’s hair was long enough to warm her neck.

They walked through the crowd together towards their place at the front, Draco breaking away from Hermione to go and whisper something in Voldemort’s ear. The smile that slid across the snake-like face made Hermione’s stomach go cold as his red eyes flicked to find her.

“My friends!” He called out, looking over the crowd with an odd sense of glee. Draco stepped away respectfully but kept close to his master. “There has been some exciting news, another pure match has been made.”

It was an odd way to phrase it, Hermione thought briefly as several shocked gasps and excited cried went up around them. The pureblood population really must be dwindling for them to react this way. She looked over at Draco and saw him hold out a hand to her, gesturing her forward.

Taking a deep breath Hermione stepped out from her place among the crowd, making her way up the small steps to take her place at his side. Another round of shocked gasps reverted throughout the room at her appearance and Hermione held her head up, gripping Draco’s hand tightly in her own.

“Healer.” Voldemort prompted, standing from his own chair to stand in front of the pretend couple. Hermione felt her heart begin to race at the nearness of him and pulled up every barrier she could muster within her mind.

There was a slight slippery feel as she felt him slide into her thoughts, mulling over the memories of Draco presenting the ring that she had pushed towards the front of her mind. He slid over the memory of her admiring the ring before pulling back.

Once he was out, Voldemort looked at her intently with his red eyes before leaning forward and pressing his thin, cold lips to her forehead. “You are most welcome.” He said quietly before pulling away.

If she hadn’t had Draco’s hand gripped bone-breakingly tight in her own, she likely would have apparated away in fear. Never before had she been this close to Voldemort, let alone been touched by him. Her hands twitched to rip out her wand and kill him on the spot, but she knew it wouldn’t work.

A few grunts sounded from the crowd as someone pushed past the throng of people to the front. If Voldemort’s close presence wasn’t enough to do her in, the sight of the crazy, curly, black hair would have. Bellatrix LeStrange all but skipped up to the platform to approach the trio.

Her lips were pursed tightly together as she reached out and snatched Hermione’s left hand up, roughly fingering the ring that was nestled on her finger. Her gaze was angry when she turned it to Draco.

“Grandmother’s ring. And what makes you so worthy that you feel you can hand out family heirlooms, Draco?”

Her tone was light but the edge beneath it was not lost on anyone. Draco glared back at her, having no patience for his aunt’s pettiness, especially not around Hermione.

“It was given to me to give to my future wife. And that it what I have done with it.” He replied, his voice as hard as steel. He knew she coveted the Black family heirlooms, thinking she had higher claim to them than the last surviving male of the blood line.

“She’s not one of us, Draco.” Bellatrix hissed, not bothering to hide her words from Hermione whose hand was still gripped tightly between Bellatrix’s bony fingers. Hermione winced at the pressure and pulled her hand away.

“Exactly.” Draco said sharply, slipping his arm around Hermione’s waist and pulling her close to him. It felt safer being next to him and Hermione met Bellatrix’s eyes with a look of defiance. She had to play her part, but standing up to the woman who had tortured her was something Hermione reveled in.

“We’re getting married in four days, I suggest you come to terms with it before then, Aunt.” Draco said coldly before effectively turning away from the witch and pulling Hermione off the dais with him. They could both feel the daggers that Bellatrix was throwing at them with her gaze even as they reached the back edge of the gathers. Voldemort had started to speak again but none of the words registered in Hermione ears. 

Seeing that his aunt was still staring at them, in a swift movement, Draco turned to face Hermione. His grey eyes met hers briefly and his hand brushed along her cheek before he lowered his head to her, covering her lips with his in a gesture that surprised Hermione. She responded immediately, having promised to uphold their ruse to the best of her ability.

The kiss was urgent and deep, Draco’s hands gripped her waist tightly as he pressed against her. She knew it was for the benefit of his aunt, but Hermione let herself lean against him, bringing her hands to either side of his head to pull him lips closer to her.

The pulled apart and Hermione took a moment to catch her break. Electricity seemed to spark from where her fingers had contact with his neck and she let out a shaky breath as her eyes met his. He didn’t look at her long, turning his hard gaze back to Bellatrix who simply quirked at eyebrow at him.

It was done, Hermione thought as she tucked herself close to Draco’s side, her lips still tingling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't even tell you how excited I am for you all to have read this chapter. Slow burns are lovely but it's time we start moving things along, don't you agree? I hope this isn't going in too cliche a direction but to be quite honest, I'm not sure I care that much :)  
> This is shaping up to be quite the long story and I hope you have all been enjoying thus far. As usual please leave me some juicy feedback!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay I will admit that this chapter was difficult to write. I have this feeling that the progression of Dramione, or at least the shift in Draco was a bit out of left field and I just wanted to clear up my thought process here. I picture it that after their first kiss and night in Grimmauld place, Draco decided to lower his guard a bit. He could see how different Hermione was with the order compared to at the Manor and wanted to make things a bit easier for her given everything she was giving up to help him. Hence the shift in his demeanor :) Everything else just sort of follows through...
> 
> UPDATE! I've added to the wedding scene to hopefully make it less rushed and random. Hope it flows better in the story now!

Other than Voldemort, no one seemed happy about the upcoming nuptials, least of all Draco and Hermione. Over the next several days they avoided each other like the plague. It was one thing to pretend to be together and share touches and kisses when they were in the pit, but when they were once again alone in the Manor, things got, well, awkward.

Hermione kept to her room and library for the most part, places where Draco had learned to avoid. Even though they both agreed that this was the best course of action to advance the order’s plan, it didn’t make it any easier for either of them.

Hermione spent a large majority of the next three days angry with Draco. There was absolutely no reason for her to be angry with him and she felt slightly ashamed when she finally came to that realization.

He hadn’t asked to be sucked into all of this, to be forced to tie himself to her in matrimony. Yes, it had been his idea, but it certainly wasn’t from a romantic standpoint. She wasn’t sure how much stock Draco Malfoy put in romance, but no one could say that this marriage was anything that either of them would have chosen.

And it was his name that he was giving, which in the pureblood society, was a big deal. For her it wasn’t so much of a risk as Draco had assured her several times that the binding would only take effect when she was Olivia, not Hermione. But for him, he would always have been married to someone. Draco Malfoy would always be someone with multiple marriages no matter the situation, and she knew the significance of it in his world.

The day before their wedding, Hermione suddenly realized that they needed to be united in this, not avoiding each other like they had been. She could act the part of a devoted wife while they were in the pit easily, but if there was even the slightest bit of hesitation between the two of them, it would be noticed.

He was in the kitchen when she finally sought him out. She didn’t feel guilty about their time apart, he had been avoiding her as well, she reminded herself.

He was sitting on one of the tall stools that lined the far edge of the island countertop. The domesticity of the scene made Hermione pause for a moment. He had a book laid out on the countertop and was making quick, neat notes on the parchment next to him. Potion ingredients, Hermione assumed given his mastery as well as their task of gathering ingredients for the order.

He was more casually dressed than she thought she had ever seen him, the dark grey t-shirt and deep blue jeans were of muggle quality and she wondered briefly where he had gotten them from. His blond hair was slightly mussed, as if he had been running his hand through it, something she had recognized as a habit of it.

Pausing in the doorway, Hermione cleared her throat to catch his attention. Draco looked up at the noise and met her eyes, not entirely surprised to find her there. Just like her, he had been avoiding her, fully realizing the actions they were about to take.

“Granger.” He said in acknowledgement, finding her slightly skittish demeanor somewhat endearing. They had lived together with relative ease for almost two months and now suddenly that the dynamic had shifted, it was like they were back on day one.

“I’m sorry.” Hermione said, catching him off guard as continued into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “You were right, we need to be in this together and I personally will acknowledge that I’ve been acting quite immature about this.”

She let out a quick breath, proud that she made it through without letting her pride stop her. They needed to take this step together if this was going to be successful. They never had to be friends, and after this they never had to see each other again, but right now, they needed to be united.

“Well I suppose I never viewed you as especially mature.” Draco said, the corner of his mouth twitching at her resulting scowl. He let out a small chuckle and spun the pen he was writing with between his fingers. “Relax, Granger. This is going to work.”

He watched in surprise as she rounded the island and slid onto the stood next to him. Instead of looking at him she picked up the corner of the parchment in front of them that did indeed hold a list of potion ingredients. Sighing she dropped the parchment and leaned her elbows down on the counter, turning her head to look up at him.

He waited expectantly for her to speak, reveling in the back of his mind just how far they had come in the past two months. Prior to that night, he didn’t think he could have even stood to have touched her and now, well they had kissed twice without any issue.

“What did you think your wedding was going to be like?” Hermione asked, bringing his attention back to her.

“What?”

She quirked her lips up and let out a small laugh. “Your wedding, Mafoy. Did you ever think about it?”

The question caught him off guard. He knew that she likely had envisioned her wedding as it seemed most women did, but the only thought of marrying her tomorrow that bothered him was the marriage itself, not missing out on some big grand wedding.

“Um, I suppose not.” He narrowed his eyes a bit as if he were thinking. “No, not at all. My parent would have been the ones planning all of that.”

“You’re parents? Really?” Hermione asked in surprise. Even in the muggle world the groom would have some sort of input in the wedding, sometimes.

“Well they get to pick who I marry so why not let them follow it through and plan it all.” Draco returned with a matter-of-fact tone.

She had known about the arranged marriages within the pureblood society, had been shocked to find out about them, but for some reason the Malfoy’s always seemed more… progressive than that.

“You’re betrothed?” For some reason the thought of him already being engaged to someone was tying her stomach into knots. This whole set up really was putting him in an awkward situation.

Draco nodded and absently flicked the page over in the book. “To who?” Hermione asked, curiosity mixing with the mild sense of dread.

He glanced over at her and she raised her brows at him in question. The look on his face was tight and somewhat strained, like he didn’t enjoy thinking about the fact he had been engaged since he was seven years old, or that he didn’t like thinking of his betrothed as someone to marry.

“Pansy.” Instead of Draco it was Hermione who had spoken, her face reflecting the moment she came to the realization. “That’s why her father was so short with you at the gala.”

Draco nodded but Hermione still felt confused.

“But why? He didn’t necessarily seem upset, more--” she paused, searching for the right word as she remembered the odd behavior of Mr. Parkinson that night. “—imploring? Did something happen?”

He knew that she had picked up on it that night, thought her inquisitive skills were more in tune than he had initially given her credit for. Mr. Parkinson had hounded him multiple times that night regarding the arrangement between him and Pansy, something that set Draco’s teeth on edge when he remembered the man.

“Draco?” Hermione asked, pulling him out of his thoughts with a slight nudge to his side with her elbow.

“I broke it off.” He said, not entirely sure why he was sharing this with her. His personal affairs were none of her business, though it felt good to talk to someone about impractical things. In the years since his mother’s death, he had been on guard with every interaction he had besides Pansy and Theo, so much so that he felt he would never be able to speak to anyone normally again.

“When?” Hermione asked, enjoying the opportunity to just talk with him when it didn’t involve plans in the pit. It was relaxing for her to have something to take her mind off everything that was happening in the world around them. Her friends had always served that role for her, and now it seemed, Malfoy was doing it.

“As soon as I found out about Pansy and Theo.” Draco said, a slight smile curling his lips as he remembered the night Theo had come to him. His friend had been warry about approaching one of the high ranking Death Eaters about breaking his engagement, even if that Death Eater had been his friend for years.

Theo had spent a few minutes to Draco’s amusement, begging and pleading with the blond to release Pansy from the arrangement set by their parents. He had stated several times that this wasn’t Pansy’s idea, but he didn’t think he could live with himself if he didn’t approach Draco on his behalf. After finally deciding that his friend had suffered enough, Draco vehemently agreed to break the engagement.

He had never wanted to marry Pansy, after their tryst in fifth year, he knew he didn’t feel that way about her. But given that it was tradition as well as the will of his parents, he had accepted the match without fuss. It was only too easy to release himself from the arrangement given that he was technically now a free agent with the estrangement of his father and death of his mother.

Mr. Parkinson, on the other hand, had been less than pleased with the development. While Theo’s family was rich enough to be considered a good match, having someone in the family who was directly under the order of Voldemort had made for a good business proposition. Since Draco broke the engagement, he had been receiving almost daily owls from the man with new terms to the agreement, all annoying in Draco’s favor.

“Do you regret it?” Hermione asked.

Did he regret it? No was the simple answer, however nothing was ever simple. He regretted not having things laid out for him. Life was much simpler with someone else making the decisions for you, but he supposed he gave up that lifestyle when he had first brought Hermione back to the Manor.

Draco shook his head and leaned back on the stood slightly. “No. I’m happy for my friends. And feel… free.”

Hermione watched his face carefully as he spoke. She couldn’t imagine having her life planned out, especially given the unpredictability of the world that she had found herself in once she turned eleven. It would be freeing to finally have the opportunity to choose for yourself.

They sat in silence for a moment more before Hermione flicked at the parchment. “So what are we looking for?” Scanning the list she had several potions enter her head that would require many of the listed ingredients.

Appreciating the change of subject, Draco leaned forward and spun the book to face her. It was a book she recognized from her healer training, one that was filled with all assortments of healing potions. The one that was on the open page made her want to laugh.

“Thinking of getting poisoned again?” She asked, looking over at him from the Hemosubsisto recipe that had saved his life two months ago.

He allowed her a slight quirk of his lips. “It’s not necessarily in the plan but now that we know it’s one of the poison’s in the Dark Lord’s arsenal, it doesn’t hurt to be prepared.”

Practical, Hermione conceded and turned the page of the book, flipping through the other antidotes listed there.

“How about you?” Draco asked suddenly.

Hermione looked up at him, confused. “What? Am I planning on being poisoned? It didn’t exactly look all that enjoyable, so I’ll say no.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, have you ever thought about your wedding?”

She looked over at him in surprise. Never in her wildest dreams would she have expected Draco Malfoy to ask about her dreams of a wedding. The shock must have been evident on her face as he raised his brows at her and tilted his head, the question still hanging between them.

Blinking several times, Hermione thought about the glimpses of her wedding she had viewed over the years. “I guess so. Not in detail, mind you, I’m not that obsessive.” Draco snorted as if he didn’t believe her. “But yes, I’ve thought about it.”

“And?” He prompted, holding out a hand to gesture for her to continue. “Big white dress? Flower arch? Pigeons released at the end?”

She gaped at him. Draco Malfoy was up to speed on his muggle wedding ceremonies. The thought delighted her. “Sure, all of the above except they are doves, not pigeons.”

He snorted again and nodded. “Of course they are.”

“Why do you know so much about weddings?”

He shrugged. “Pansy was quite intense when we were dating and already engaged. She had the entire thing planned out and apparently muggles have these very intricate magazines specifically about weddings.”

Hermione almost laughed at the image of him and Pansy pouring over the bridal magazines that her parents had sitting in their dental office when she had been young. He would have hated it, she thought, but he seemed to have put up with it for Pansy’s sake.

“She must have been excited, thought why someone would be excited to marry you I’ll never know.”

He looked over at her sharply but saw a slight teasing smile across her lips and shook his head. He never let anyone talk to him like this but the banter between himself and Hermione was enjoyable. It had been a long time since he had bantered with anyone, a long time since anyone had made him smile.

“You’re not so much of a catch yourself, Granger.” He shot back, mimicking her when she raised her brows. “Less than ideal blood status, unmanageable hair, much to thin, loud mouth.”

He listed off several more things, each one had Hermione smiling internally. Everything he listed was entirely true, but it also proved that he had been paying attention to her, enough to know that she apparently smelt “annoying like a vanilla chai latte”. She was seeing a new side of Malfoy and he was almost intriguing.

He paused in his list seeing her smile. “What?”

Hermione chuckled and shook her head, pushing up off the counter to lean back on her perch on the stool. “Oh nothing. Just enjoying your astute observations.”

He narrowed his eyes and shook his head, her smile only widening at his slight annoyance. Her smile was comforting to him and it felt suddenly right having her here in his kitchen, sitting next to him and laughing at him. The smile slowly dropped from her lips as she saw the shift in his face.

“What?”

Draco studied her face for a few more moments and reached out to tuck a loose curl behind her ear. She flinched slightly at the touch, but it only made him smirk. Dropping his hand he slid off the stood and snapped the book shut.

Hermione watched in confusion at his movement, for a moment she had thought he would kiss her again, but obviously that wasn’t his intention. Draco paused for a moment at the edge of the island counter and met her eyes again.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Granger. Try to get some rest for our wedding.” His lips twitched slightly before he turned and left the kitchen.

Hermione watched him leave, allowing herself for a moment to admire his retreating form. Blinking she caught her wits again, this was no place for her to start having feelings, especially not for Draco Malfoy. They would accomplish their mission and then they would go their separate ways.

Hermione sighed and then slid off of her own stool, feeling the dread about tomorrow return.

***

She dressed by herself the next evening, having spent enough time at this point in both her closet as well as down in the pit to understand what was expected of her. She smirked thinking about Draco’s reaction to the dress she pulled down from the hanger and laughed openly when Kildy clapped her hands in delight.

“That is Kildy’s favorite miss!” The elf gushed, running her knobby fingers over the soft fabric. The elf had been helping her most of the afternoon, crafting a masterpiece of her hair. They checked it multiple times with Olivia’s hair to make sure that things held up.

When she make her way down the stairs Draco surveyed her for a moment before dropping his gaze and shaking his head. Hermione grinned widely, quite happy with the reaction the deep maroon dress elicited.

“Fitting.” Draco said once she reached her.

“Once a Gryffindor.” She said with a smile and a slight twirl causing the long skirt of the dress to billow out slightly.

He huffed slightly as she turned back to him, of course she would pick today of all days to make a statement. Still grinning Hermione slipped the gold ring on her finger, disillusioning her. He felt somewhat dismayed seeing the shift in her features, the sharp face of Olivia was much less appealing than Hermione’s warm brown eyes and full lips. However, it did help him focus his mind more.

“Ready?” He asked, holding out his arm.

She took it, sensing the immediate shift in the mood and felt once again the dread of what was to come. They could pull this off, she reminded herself, gripping Draco’s arm tightly before they apparated into the cave.

The celebrations were already underway when they arrived. There had been several marriage ceremonies previously performed under the watchful gaze of Voldemort, each of them involved a large amount of drinking and other frivolities.

Hermione was still surprised every time she saw the party atmosphere down in the cave. While the order was hiding under the protection of the underground, Death Eaters were having a grand soiree. The thought made her angry. Angry, and more determined to finish this, all of this.

Voldemort saw the moment that they arrived, standing slowly from his chair as a hush fell over the crowd. Hermione took a deep breath and tightened her grip on Draco’s hand as he moved them purposefully towards the front. He nodded at the offers of congratulations that were flung their way from all directions. He was ever the gentleman, but he had a dangerous demeanor about him that the other's recognized and respected.

From Draco's brief explanation of the ceremony, Hermione had an idea of what to expect, at least enough of one to be able to pretend that she was able to follow along. Wizarding ceremonies were intense. While a muggle wedding was about love and happiness, the one's performed with magic held a stricter sense of formality to them. The legality of a muggle ceremony was nothing compared to the implications of a wizarding one. It truly bound them together. 

Even with Draco's assurance that the binding would be based on her name and identity as Olivia, Hermione couldn't help but to feel apprehensive. What if there was a deeper magical force within the ritual that neither of them understood. Unbinding was a dangerous and difficult process, and one Hermione wasn't keen to endure if the magic sensed her true identity under the disguise. 

They stood in front of the silent crowd, Hermione’s heart racing against the silk of the burgundy dress. Draco could sense her nerves as if they were his own. Her hand was cold in his and he gave it a slight squeeze as Bellatrix stepped in front of the couple. Wizarding wedding ceremonies were traditionally performed by a family member, and since Lucius Malfoy wanted nothing to do with his son, it was up to his only other surviving relative. It was less than ideal. 

Hermione could have imagined nothing worse than to have Bellatrix be the one marrying them, then again it wasn’t like she had imagined marrying Draco Malfoy in a cave either so…

It was nothing like a muggle ceremony, Hermione thought as Bellatrix started chanting incantations. There was an odd reminiscence of the rituals found in Halloween movies she used to watch with her parents prior to discovering that witches were actually real. 

"Please begin Aunt." Draco said cooly as Bellatrix simply stared at them, her mouth slightly parted as if she would curse them at any moment. Hermione met the witch's eyes boldly and Bellatrix's eyes flicked between the couple, obviously not approving with the choice of partner for her nephew. 

Dramatically, the witch flung her hands up in the air, calling for silence from the rustling crowd behind them. Hermione almost took a step back at the sudden movement but Draco's tight grip on her hand grounded her. 

Voldemort was watching from his perch on his throne behind Bellatrix, a long white finger stroked down his cheek as his gaze remained fixed on the ceremony, mainly on Hermione. She felt uncomfortable under his cold eyes, almost like she were a specimen being readied for dissection. She tried to focus on the unfamiliar words that Bellatrix was now crooning before them, trying to remember some of them to look up later. 

Draco had told her that the language was an old form of Irish Gaelic, lost to everyone but the pureblood wizarding community who relied on it for any important ceremonies or rituals. It was said that the source of all magic in the world could be traced back to the emerald isle, it's ancestry including that of Morganna and Merlin. What people in ancient times had considered Gods and Deities, could simply be identified as witches and wizards in today's world. The history of magic was fascinating to Hermione and she almost felt honored to be part of such an ancient ceremony. 

At one point Bellatrix yanked Hermione and Draco’s hands apart, taking each of them separately as she pricked the tip of her knife into their palms. Hermione bit her lip as the witch dug the knife into her skin a little more forcefully as than what was necessary. Seeing his aunt's pleasure in her excessive force in peircing Hermione's palm, Draco narrowed his eyes. Bellatrix simply raised a brow at him before dropping Hermione's cool palm from her own.

It was difficult not to think of the last time that Bellatrix had pressed a knife into Hermione's skin, and she willed the chill than ran through her away. Moving into the final portion of the ceremony, Draco turned to Hermione and held out his bloodied hand to her. Internally cringing at the thought of all the contamination warnings she had drilled into her during her training, Hermione placed her hand in his and felt the combined stickiness of their blood as it melded together. 

She had a brief moment of humor as she thought of the reaction of the crowd if they knew that their pureblooded prince had just soiled himself with her muddy blood. Draco seemed to be having the same thoughts and Hermione thought she saw the corner of his mouth twitch. It felt good to know that he hadn't had any reaction to her blood mixing with his. It was a final confirmation in Hermione's eyes that his views on blood status that had run rampant when he was younger, were no longer present. 

Throughout the ceremony, small blue flickering lights had formed with Bellatrix's words. They started as dim flashes but grew in intensity, like tiny blue fireflies floating around them. The lights would have been beautiful if they weren’t a symbol of binding herself to Malfoy. 

After another series of incantations, Bellatrix stepped back, her eyes wide with awe as the lights surrounding Hermione and Draco flashed with intense brightness and then disappeared completely. Hermione blinked and let her eyes adjust back to the green glow of the cave. Deep within her chest she felt a sort of burning, similar to the pain still prickling her injured hand. 

As if expecting something terrible to happen, Bellatrix stared at them with her wide, black eyes. Hermione wasn’t exactly sure what was supposed to happen next, so she glanced up at Draco who in turn looked down at her. Disappointment washed over Bellatrix's face and she lowered the hands that had been held out at her sides. 

The burning pain in her chest grew stronger and Hermione suddenly felt panicked, wondering if this was a reaction from the magic. As if it knew that she were an impostor and the ceremony wouldn't work. Before she could panic further, Draco reached his non-injured hand up and cupped her face, leaning down to press his lips chastley against hers. He hand't explained the ending to the ceremony very well to her and Hermione hadn't expected any sort of physicality like muggles had. None the less, she responded immediately, barely noticing that the fiery ache in her chest disappeared the moment Draco's lips met hers. 

The kiss lasted for only seconds, seemingly a required portion of the ceremony as it held none of the fire that had been present during their kiss in the library nights before. Draco pulled away and stared down at her, his hand still cupping her neck. 

“And it’s done.” Draco said quietly before a roaring cheer filled the large expanse of the cave. The sudden noise in what had been dead silence made Hermione jump and Draco squeezed her hand to ground her, his gaze still intensely locked on her. It was done. They were married, and even knowing that it was a farce, the knowledge still made Hermione nervous. 

Bellatrix suddenly stepped forward causing Hermione to take a surprised step back, letting go of Draco’s hand. The black-haired witch leaned forward menacingly, so she was inches from Hermione’s face, the green glow of the cave giving her a sickly appreance. Her heart beat wildly at the close proximity, taken back immediately to the drawing room those years ago and the horrors that went with it.

Bellatrix’s breath was warm in Hermione’s face as the witch tilted her head at her. “I hope you understand what you’ve done.” Bellatrix sneered.

“I do.” Hermione replied without hesitations, meeting the black eyes strait on. She would not let this woman intimidate her. She had been afraid of Bellatrix for years, her nightmares filled with images of the witch and the pain that accompanied her. There was nothing she could do about the nightmares, but she wouldn’t let the fear trickle over to her reality.

Bellatrix sneered before she was jerked sharply away by Draco. “I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from my wife, aunt. Wouldn’t want her tainted by your vileness.”

Bellatrix glared at her nephew but didn’t say anything in response, instead slinking away to stand at Voldemort’s side. Her presence there was ornamental at best, everyone knew who was among the Dark Lord’s most trusted followers and with Bellatrix’s behavior in the past, she didn’t make the list.

The cave still held the echoes of the joyful celebration as Draco slid his arm around Hermione’s waist and pulled her close to him. “Alright?”

Hermione nodded slightly and looked up at him. “Yes.”

“Good. You’ve just married the most eligible bachelor in the wizarding world, how do you feel Mrs. Malfoy?”

She closed her eyes briefly in shock at the name, but Draco could see the slight smile on her lips. “I feel like my husband needs an ego check.”

“Probably.” He agreed with a quirk of his lips. A movement from Voldemort caught their attention and Draco's face turned back to the smooth composure it usually held. 

The Dark Lord walked to them, his movements so smooth that Hermione wondered if his feet even touched the ground. His expression was unreadable as he approached them and Hermione had the sudden urge to run. Even in her defiance of Bellatrix's presence, she couldn't ignore the fear that Voldemort evoked. 

"Congratulations." Voldemort said, the sharp points of his teeth glinting as he spoke. One of his hands rose to rest on Draco's shoulder and the younger wizard respectfully inclined his head. 

"Thank you, my Lord." 

Voldemort then turned to Hermione, the intensity that filled his gaze was reminiscent of what she had glimpsed during the ceremony. Expecting a similar congratulations that Draco received, Hermione was shocked when Voldemort instead took another step forward and cupped her face in both of his hands. Her heart pounded in her chest as she tried not to look over at Draco. 

The red eyes searched hers for what felt like a lifetime, one of his thumbs moved to slide over Hermione's bottom lip with uncomfortable boldness. There was nothing she could be but wait. She almost flinched when Voldemort leaned forward, his gaze dropping to her lips before diverting his course to kiss her on both cheeks. Hermione blinked as he pulled back and dropped his hands from her, the air that met her now exposed skin felt warm in contrast. 

"I hope you will be a fruitful wife." Voldemort said, finally blinking.

Hermione let out a shaky breath. "Thank you, my Lord." 

As Voldemort turned and made his way back to his throne, Hermione turned her gaze back to Draco who was watching the exchange. If he was surprised at the Dark Lord's actions, he didn't say anything, simply offered her his arm. 

They accepted congratulations from almost all the Death Eaters who approached them, fielding the questions about when they would start adding to the pureblood population. The urgency with which it was expected of them to start procreating was concerning to Hermione, but she laughed along with Draco after each encounter. The uneasiness from the contact with Voldemort was still heavy in her chest and several times Hermione glanced over to find the red eyes still following her movements. 

They didn’t drink having learned their lesson during Hermione’s first visit to the pit, instead choosing to simply hold their glasses while everyone else around them enjoyed the alcohol. After less than an hour the large group began to disband to their usual spots at the edge of the cave. The newlyweds kept by each other’s side the entire night, feeling that it not only kept up their image of a devoted couple, but also served to make sure that neither of them were in any dangerous situations.

Draco had seen Fenir Greyback hovering near the back of the crowd during the ceremony, the bright blue eyes never leaving Hermione. The werewolf never approached the couple, but Draco vowed never to leave Hermione’s side while in the presence of the werewolf. He didn’t trust the impulsiveness of the man, let alone trust him to head the warning Draco had made during the last encounter they had.

The attention Hermione was receiving both from Voldemort as well as several of the other men within the ranks was making Draco wary. Never in his life had he seen Voldemort react that way to someone. Even with Bellatrix constantly at his side, both in battle and in his bed, Voldemort treated her like the dirt below his feet. He showed affection for no one. He showed interest in nothing. And yet the way he had looked at Hermione during the ceremony made Draco want to get her out of his presence as quickly as possible. 

“What are you thinking?” Hermione asked as she caught him glaring at the back of the cave much late in the evening. She was probably the most tired she had ever been, emotionally and physically exhausted. Olivia’s sleek black hair was slipping from the clips that Kildy had so carefully placed those hours ago and Hermione’s head ached.

Draco looked down at her and shrugged. “Nothing. Just tired.”

He did look ready to leave, Hermione noted. The shadows forming underneath his eyes betrayed that he was as tired as she felt. “Are we allowed to leave?”

The corner of his lips twitched slightly before he scanned the crowd. “Technically it’s our wedding, we can do whatever we want, whenever we want.”

Hermione pursed her lips and pretended to consider this. “Well everyone does seem very eager for us to start popping out children and we certainly can’t do that here. Though, on the other hand..” She sent a pointed look over his shoulder where sounds of sex could be heard coming from the shadows. 

His brows raised in slight surprise but then he chuckled, allowing to enjoy the small moments he had with her. For a brief moment he allowed himself to imagine what their future would be like if they actually had married each other today. The thought of Hermione Granger spending the rest of her life with him was eerily comfortable and Draco cleared his throat before allowing the fantasy to proceed.

Holding out an arm to her, he inclined his head. “Shall we?”

Hermione sighed with relief when they arrived back in the entrance hall of the manor. Her ears were ringing in the sudden silence and she rubbed at her temples to ebb the pain. All she wanted was to collapse in her bed and sleep for the rest of the week. The unease she had felt since the encounter with Voldemort started to fade as she pulled the remaining clips from her hair. 

“That was interesting.” She said quietly, running through the events of the evening for a final time. “I suppose it was everything I would have expected from a Death Eater marriage ceremony performed in a cave so I can’t say that I’m disappointed.”

Her attempt at humor was light and she glanced up at Draco, surprised to find him staring down at her as if studying her.

“What?” She asked, tilting her head in question.

He didn’t say anything, instead, reached out and took her right hand in his and eased the small gold ring off. Hermione couldn’t feel the change in her features but the shift of Draco’s expression from hard to soft was noticeable.

“Better.” He said softly before closing her fingers over the ring in her hand.

He didn’t say anything more but tucked an errant curl behind her ear before turning and departing from the room.

She stood there watching his retreating form, the confusion that overtook her was overwhelming and made her head throb even more. Almost blindly she opened the fingers of her right hand and stared down at the ring in them. Then in the next moment, shifted her gaze to her left hand to the ring that encircled her finger.

A slight moment of panic bubbled up in her throat before she pushed it down and took a deep breath. They had completed this part of their mission, started along a series of paths that would hopefully lead to the end of Voldemort’s regime. And yet deep down, Hermione couldn’t help but feel some mild disappointment that this was only a means to an end.

The day was nothing like the wedding she had imagined when Draco had asked her yesterday in the kitchen. And standing alone in the middle of a chilly hallway while her husband likely collapsed into his own separate bed certainly wasn’t how she had imagined spending her marriage night.

And of course I've got some pictures for you :)

Along the lines of the dress I'm picturing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it, the Malfoys!  
> As always please feel free to leave a review/comment. Coming up next our groom and bride are going on an adventure :)


	20. Chapter 20

They had been married less than 48 hours when their plan started to pay off. Hermione was in the library when Draco waltzed in and plucked the book she had been reading from her hands. Immediately annoyed, Hermione glared up at him but the mixture of fear and excitement on his face had her pausing.

“What is it?” She asked, swinging her legs off the side of the armchair.

“I’ve been summoned.” He said nonchalantly.

“Oh.” Hermione said, somewhat disappointed. He was summoned a lot, this was nothing new and then the edge of annoyance starting trickling back in. “You don’t have to tell me when you’re leaving just because we’re technically married now, Malfoy. I promise I won’t wait up for you.”

She had just started to swing her legs back up on the arm when he reached down at caught her ankle in his hand. Scowling she turned a heated gaze on him.

“What--?”

“I’ve been summoned and you’re to come with me. Or Olivia is.” He said, the slight smirk on his lips echoing the triumph he had felt when the owl from Yaxley had arrived just minutes before.

They had married in order to imbed themselves further into Voldemort’s regime, to make sure that they were involved in his plans so that they could use that knowledge to defeat him. And with the extension of the summons to Hermione, it seemed that their plan was working.

From the beginning Hermione had been expected at some point, as the official healer in the pit, to have been included in the planning of any future battles or plans, but it seemed she had not earned her place of trust yet. However, with the marriage between her and Draco, she was immediately thrust into the inner circle. It seemed like the Malfoy name was good for something after all.

“What is it for?” Hermione asked, standing as the spark of excitement ran through her veins. After two months of trying to make the efforts that she and Draco were putting in worth it, it finally felt like she had the opening they had been waiting for.

“The letter didn’t say. Usually when there hasn’t been a grand announcement of plans, it’s a strategy meeting.” Draco said, the same electricity she felt seemed to thrum through him as well. His cheeks held just a tinge more color than usual and the corners of his lips twitched frequently.

“When are we supposed to be there?”

“Now. Grab the ring and I’ll meet you in my study.” He said shortly, stepping aside to allow her to rush past him. “Oh, and Granger?” He called out just as she reached the door causing her to pause. His eyes ran down her body taking in the tight black leggings and baggy sweater she wore.

“I’d change if I were you.”

***

Minutes later Hermione rushed down the staircase having slipped the ring onto her finger and changed into more presentable clothes. Draco was waiting for her in his study and immediately took her hand when she reached his side, the Dark Lord did not like to be kept waiting.

“Now remember just keep to yourself unless you’re spoken to.” He warned her.

“I’m not a child, Malfoy.” She said, narrowing her eyes at him as they stood facing each other.

“No, but you are supposed to be my wife and healer or not, in pureblood society, the wife is in a more… well, submissive role.”

She rolled her eyes at this, immediately hating the stupid pureblood society even more. “Yes, master.” She quipped back.

He gripped her hand in a tight squeeze and narrowed his eyes at her. “This isn’t a fucking joke, Granger. I’m trying to keep you alive, the least you could do would be to return the favor.”

Her hand stung under his strength and she tried to shake him loose to no avail. She understood what was expected of her as his wife and she also understood what was expected of her while they were in Voldemort’s presence.

Steeling her voice, she glared at him. “I understand my role. As I said before I’m not a child, but I am also not ignorant. I am perfectly aware of what Voldemort is capable of doing, I’ve seen his handywork with my own eyes. I certainly do not want to die today Malfoy and it is all but a guarantee now that if I jeopardize yours or my position, we would both be dead.”

His eyes softened slightly but she continued. “I’m not sitting around here playing house with you for the fun of it, this is a means to an end and I’ve promised to see it through. And if that means sitting there and pretending like I don’t exist, like I don’t have a brain, then so be it. It’s not like I’m all that excited to contribute to the Voldemort’s plans anyways.”

Feeling slightly chagrined, Draco nodded and continued to hold her eyes. He didn’t say anything, but Hermione could see the shift in his features, finding the understanding and acceptance in his eyes. With a final nod, Draco gripped both her hands and apparated them into the cave.

It was a different room than the larger chamber where she had been before. Hermione felt almost claustrophobic when they arrived, immediately stepping away from Draco to have more room. The ceilings were low and soft orbs of light illuminated the area. A large stone table ran the expanse of the room and reminded Hermione slightly of the dining room at the Manor.

Draco placed a hand on her lower back and steered her to a seat next to his, close to the end of the table. Hermione noted several familiar faces among the small group gathered there, including Draco’s father who glared at her with obvious hatred.

Her place in the pit was evidently solidified as several of the men at the table greeted Draco but completely ignored her. She sighed internally as she sat down and tried to calm the slight thrum of nerves she felt.

Voldemort sat at the head of the table, lounging back against the stone of his seat. Hermione balked for a moment as she looked down at the movement of his pale hand. He was slowly stroking the head of a very large snake who was swirled on the floor next to his feet

Hermione almost forgot to breath as she stared at the snake, who looked back at her with large, black eyes. A soft kick to her leg had her jumping and she flicked her gaze up to Draco who was glaring at her. She blinked several times and then returned her attention back to the conversation happening around her.

They were discussing the possible locations for the next attack on the order, trying to figure out the direct locations of the safe houses. Hermione smirked slightly when she heard the frustration in Lucius Malfoy’s voice as he reported to Voldemort that they still had not been able to find the muggle neighborhood where the headquarters were located.

“Lucius,” Voldemort hissed out. A hush fell over the table and Hermione could feel tension elevate. “How is it that the family home can just go missing? Explain.”

Lucius visibly swallowed, the snake starting to hiss in the silence. “I don’t know, my Lord. We believe they have reformed the fidelius charm.”

This time Voldemort himself hissed. Hermione was surprised that in the years since Voldemort had been in control that they hadn’t been able to figure out something as simple as the fidelius charm, especially given that it was the charm that Wormtail betrayed the Potters over.

“And who would be the secret keeper?” Voldemort asked shortly.

Lucius glanced around the table quickly, obviously sweating under his heavy black robes. “We.. I don’t know, my Lord. It could be anyone, it could be Potter himself.”

A moment of silence held the room before Voldemort clenched his pointed teeth and leaned back in his chair. “Very well. Then we will simply have to lure them out.”

“In the meantime,” Voldemort hissed and Hermione was quite surprised when he turned his red gaze in hers and Draco’s direction. Her hands clenched into fists on top of her thighs at the sudden attention, trying to anticipate what would be asked of them.

“Healer, how are the potion stocks?” Voldemort asked plainly. The entire meeting was surprising in nature, like an intimidating board meeting Hermione had heard her parents complain about for years.

Draco nudged her leg with his and she blinked. “Um, there’s enough, my Lord. Though I was hoping to restock on ingredients within the next week to be safe.”

That wasn’t true, Hermione thought, the potion room at the Manor was fully stocked with ingredients that made the healer within her sing with happiness. They didn’t need anything, but she knew that part of the order’s mission was to scout locations for a possible attack against Voldemort and getting out of the manor with a valid excuse would be a perfect opportunity.

She waited with bated breath as Voldemort seemed to consider her words. Bracing for the slippery invasion of her thoughts Hermione put up every blockade she had perfected in the past month, but it never came. Instead, Voldemort inclined his snake-like face in her direction.

“You will take your husband, healer. You should not be separated for too long.”

His words held a cryptic sense and Hermione resisted the urge to glance up at Draco. “Of course.” She replied instead, pleased with her performance even given the brevity of it.

The meeting immediately turned its attention back to a barrage of the Order and Hermione felt oddly amused and proud given the apparent difficulties they were having deciding how to best wound them. The Order may be lesser in numbers and resources, but they were smart, quick and thought on their feet. These qualities it seemed, allowed them to stay one step in front of the Death Eaters.

If only they knew what was coming, Hermione thought with smug satisfaction as a small argument broke out at the opposite end of the table about who was supposed to be trailing Kingsley.

Though the entire meeting couldn’t have lasted more than three hours, Hermione felt utterly spent by the end of it. She had tried to keep up with everything going on while feeling incredibly anxious to get back to the Manor and let Harry know about her assignment. The Order had made a preliminary list of the locations to launch attacks on that would goad Voldemort the most, and she had the perfect one in mind.

She stood with the rest of the group and watched as Voldemort and the snake slid gracefully from the room. It was hard to resist the urge to attack the both of them right then and there, but she knew that nothing on her person would be effective enough to get rid of them. The sword had disappeared right after the battle of Hogwarts as was its way, and the rest of the basilisk fangs had been destroyed during the Order’s escape.

Draco didn’t say anything to her as he once again took her hand and apparated them away. Once they found themselves alone, she couldn’t help the excitement that bubbled over within her. It was an odd combination of excitement and residual nervousness and she began to speak all at once, her wild hand gestures expelling some of the pent-up energy.

“We get to leave!” She exclaimed excitedly, grinning widely as she let out a breath of happiness. “Oh I need to talk to Harry.”

Draco watched as she all but ran from the room, smiling and shaking his head as she did. He knew she would react like this, had sensed the energy building up within her from the moment he told her she was going to the meeting. He couldn’t help but to feel excited himself. They had been cooped up in the manor since the attack on the hospital and he felt the itch to get out of the house.

A few moments later Hermione came rushing back down the stairs, looking like herself again and clutching the small gold coin they used to communicate with the order.

“They agree with my plan.” Hermione said excitedly, coming over to stand next to him, spinning the coin in her fingers.

Blinking, he held up a hand. “Hold on, what plan?” Of course she would already have a plan formed in the hours since they had been given their assignment.

“Oh, right, sorry. I’ve an idea about where we could get our ingredients.” She said.

“And where would that be?” He asked tentatively. He didn’t like not being part of the initial stage of any plan, let alone one that had the curly haired witch bouncing off the walls in excitement.

“Don’t worry, Malfoy. I’ve trusted you with my life for months, you can handle the suspense for a few days.” Her tone was mischievous, and he huffed out a breath. “Enjoy it. It’s not everyday someone plans a vacation for you and all you have to do it pack.”

He glared at her for a moment but then conceded, she did get Potter and the Weasel through an entire winter in a tent. “Alright.”

Her smile widened at his agreement and she all but skipped out of the room. “Oh,” she said, turning back to him at the foot of the stairs. “Pack warm.”

***

Hermione was excited to say the least as she took Malfoy’s hand and apparated them to their destination two days later. It felt good to be in control again, to be the one making the decisions instead of being at the mercy of other’s whims. Even in the Order she was only a pawn, doing what she was told, when she was told.

Granted it was still what she was doing now, but at least it had been her idea, one that Harry and the Order had immediately agreed with. It seemed the final stage of their plan to defeat Voldemort was underway, and she and Draco were going to be the one to kick it off.

The wind yanked at their clothes and hair when they arrived, and Draco immediately whipped his head around to survey their surroundings. He had promised to let her take the lead on this, not only because he could see she had a plan already formed in her mind, but also because he knew how she must feel trapped in the Manor for months.

However, when he agreed to accompany her, he hadn’t exactly pictured _this_ as their final destination.

They were standing alone on what appeared to be a very high cliffside overlooking the large expanse of the ocean. The strong wind picked up Hermione’s hair and she struggled to pull it through an elastic. The cliffs must have been over 200 meters tall and Draco fingered the wand in his pocket absentmindedly as he peered over the edge.

“Planning to do away with me, Granger?” He asked, watching the whites of the waves crash over the rocks below.

Hermione rolled her eyes but did not join him at the cliffside, her Gryffindor bravery was not enough to overcome her fear of heights. Malfoy on the other hand, didn’t seem to suffer from the same affliction as he leaned precariously over the edge, the toes of his shoes barely on the cliff. The sight made Hermione feel somewhat ill.

“If you keep leaning over like that I won’t have to.” She said, trying to keep her voice casual but she felt a small grip of fear at the thought of him plummeting over the edge. His death didn’t exactly factor too well into her plans.

Draco turned away from the edge and strode back to where she stood, several safe feet from the edge, he noted.

“Nice spot, but what exactly are we doing here?” The wind carried his voice past her, making it hard to hear. Hermione raised her wand and cast a quick wordless spell, immediately her hair settled down her back and the noise from the wind disappeared.

Draco’s brows raised at the sudden silence and he looked at her with apprehension. “How did you--?” There wasn’t any spell he was aware of that could control the weather like that.

Hermione looked at him with a tilt of her head. “Bubble charm, Malfoy, relax.”

He glanced around them, trying and failing to find any evidence of the magical barrier that was now protecting them from the wind. Though he was immediately comforted knowing that she wasn’t so great a witch that she could control the weather. Regular old brightest-witch-of-her-age Granger he could handle, most powerful witch since Morgana? Not so much.

“Where are we?” Draco asked again.

“Ireland.” Hermione said, letting her gaze flick over the magnificent site before them.

“Ireland?” Draco asked in surprise. He never figured her plans would be taking them out of Britain. “And why are we in Ireland?”

The mischievous glint in her eye was hard to miss as she looked back up at him. “To collect potions ingredients of course, you heard our master.”

The sarcasm that dripped off the word master was unmistakable, edging Draco as he knew that the only person here who considered Voldemort their master, was him.

Hermione sighed, wishing she could restrain herself from making comments. He had initiated this plan to kill Voldemort, she reminded herself, that had to count for something.

“One of the ingredients of the _Hemosubsisto_ is only found in Ireland and it has to be gathered fresh for the antidote to be potent enough to counteract the effects.” She explained.

Draco remembered the list of ingredients he had gathered from his book a few days ago, picturing one particular herb that he wasn’t familiar with. “Scilla Verna?”

Hermione nodded. “Spring squill. It’s difficult to find on the best of days. The last time I was here when I made the antidote during my training, it took me two weeks just to find a patch. But hopefully with the two of us-“

“We can cover more ground.” Draco finished for her, glancing around the ground.

“Exactly. It’s usually found along the cliffsides hence-“ She gestured to the expansive ocean to her left. “There’s a little village not far from here. I figured we could stay there until we find some, the inn is relatively nice.”

‘Relatively nice’ didn’t exactly sound like a luxury hotel that he would have preferred, but Draco had seen much worse during his years of servitude to the Dark Lord. He nodded; the plan seemed simple enough and he didn’t exactly understand the secrecy about their destination. 

“So why did you have to speak with the Order to let them know you’d be looking for a flower?” He asked, not missing the flicker that passed across her face.

After a moment’s pause, Hermione spoke. “I think it’s best if I wait to explain. We won’t be doing anything regarding that part of the plan today, but I’ll explain everything when I make sure that we’ve not been followed.”

This surprised him, “Followed? Followed by who?”

“You told me that Voldemort likes to keep tabs on people in his inner circle. And I’m assuming that just because we’re married doesn’t mean that we no longer warrant his suspicion. We can’t risk him knowing any part of the Order’s plan.”

It was practical he thought, keeping the cover of looking for a tiny purple flower along the Irish coast while she made preparations for the real reason he assumed they were there. For now, he would trust her and follow her lead.

“If we were followed don’t you think the fact that you look like you would be a bigger tip off?” Draco asked, eyeing her familiar features.

Hermione rolled her, “You really think I would risk not having a disguise when I’m with you? There’s an ordinary glamour spell over me, it wouldn’t hold up in close proximity but if anyone is looking from afar, they would only see Olivia.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “Then why do I see you Granger?”

“Because I’ve modified the spell to allow you to see me Malfoy. I hate the way you look at me when I’m Olivia.”

She blinked several times at her bluntness, not having meant to tell him why she had stayed up most of the night prior figuring out how to allow him to see through the glamour. But it was true. When she was Olivia, Malfoy was cold to her, almost like he was hiding himself the same way she was. If it truly took weeks to find the flower again, she couldn’t handle living every day with his reaction to her disguise.

Malfoy eyed her dubiously for a moment but thankfully didn’t say anything further about her disguise. In fact he was quite happy that she chose not to hide herself from him as well, it made him feel more at ease.

“Alright. Though if we’re going to look for the squilla, we’d better start now.” He said, casting a wary look up at the dark clouds forming in the distance. Hermione nodded, following his gaze.

***

The sky opened up on them several hours later after they had combed a good length of the cliffside. The rain pelted them as Hermione clutched Draco’s arm as the wind started to pick up. She had been insistent about continuing to look, up until the first crack of lightening lit the sky above them.

The waves were crashing over the rocks at the bottom of the cliff with intensity, Draco saw as he peered over the edge a final time, shielding his eyes from the pounding rain.

“I think we’d better get to that nice little inn you mentioned Granger.” He all but yelled into her ear, trying to be heard over the wind.

Hermione nodded, snatching up his hand in hers and apparating them. It wasn’t a wizarding town nearby, instead a simple muggle one with quaint buildings lining an uneven cobblestone street. It must be close to the cliffs, Draco noted as they landed in an alley between two of the buildings. The rain was still pelting them and the sky still flashed with light.

Hermione pulled him with her, slipping slightly on the soaked stone street as they made their way down a block.

“Here.” She said, pulling him with her through a door into the dry warmth of one of the buildings.

They were both breathing heavily as they entered the shelter, soaking wet with rain water. Draco itched to take out his wand for a quick drying spell but a quick glance at his surroundings told him that the three other muggles in what appeared to be a small pub wouldn’t appreciate the open display of magic.

He heard Hermione laugh lightly and turned back to her, finding her studying his hair with a slight grin on her face. He eyed her own soaked curls plastered to her face and neck and raised his brows in return.

“Yes, but I’m not the one known for my studious appearance so it’s not as funny.” Hermione said, reading the exchange between them perfectly.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Don’t sound so proud Granger.”

He turned back to the room they were in to take it in further. It was definitely a small-town pub, he observed. The rough oak bar gleamed with what must be a thousand polishes, booths lined the adjacent wall and it was overall dimly lit.

The bartender who had been deep in conversation with one of the other two patrons in the place, nodded to them as Draco and Hermione approached the bar.

“Catch yourself in the rain did ya’?” The gruffy man asked with a slight smile. He took the few short steps until he was standing in from of the newcomers, eyeing their wet appearance with amusement. Tourists, he thought with an edge of annoyance, never thinking to check the weather beforehand.

“What can I get you for?” The man asked as they settled onto the barstools. The thick Irish accent made Hermione smile as she thought of her father’s accent, one that used to sooth her to sleep on similar stormy nights.

“Um.. cider for me please.” Hermione said politely, smiling at the man.

The two of them looked expectantly at Draco who blinked. Having never been in a muggle bar before, he had no idea what to order. Something told him that they didn’t serve butterbeer.

“Ah, whiskey?” He asked hesitantly, hoping that he was correctly remembering the drink that he had overheard a muggle born talking about during his first year at Hogwarts.

The bartender nodded and turned away from the pair to fetch their drinks.

The amber liquid burned Draco’s throat as he took his first sip, but it was pleasantly warming against the chill that had settled into his bones. Hermione had yet to touch her cider and was instead trying to wring the water out of her long hair.

“Give it up Granger,” he said, watching her over the rim of his glass. “It’s never going to look any better.”

She glared at him and flipped her hair over her shoulder, effectively smacking him with the wet locks. The corner of his lip twitched as she raised her own glass up, her brows raised in challenge at him.

“So what are we actually doing here? I think by now we’ve definitely convinced any tails that we are dedicated flower seekers.” Draco asked, draining the rest of the glass and signaling the bartender for another.

“Well we’re drinking and then I’m going to go upstairs and go to sleep. Maybe shower first, I am a bit chilly.” Hermione said, taking another swallow of the sweet drink.

“As good as that all sounds, you know that’s not what I’m asking.” He said, running a finger over the chilled glass in front of him. Though he had to admit, the though of her in a shower was much more warming than the whiskey was.

Hermione sighed, shrugging out of her soaked jacket. “There’s a place nearby that Harry told me about, a place that means something to Voldemort.”

“Okay? Are we going sightseeing or something?”

The look she gave him immediately made him feel like an idiot. “Yes, Malfoy. I took us to Ireland so we can go on Witch Weekley’s 10 most recommended places to get to know the Dark Lord.”

He couldn’t help it, he chuckled. Her wit really was surprising to him, especially given how uptight she always seemed at Hogwarts.

“You remember the plan we decided on at Headquarters?” She asked.

He nodded and she continued. “It’s one of the places on the list.”

The realization dawned on him. “And we’re going to destroy it?” The anger he felt flicker through him was surprising. “Are you kidding me? How the hell are we supposed to destroy an entire location on our own? I thought the mission was going to involve the entirety of the Order.”

She looked warily at him, not expecting this reaction. “No. The plan always was to start small, just catch Voldemort’s attention to provoke him. And then gradually increase the response with more frequent and more severe attacks until he can’t help but to come out of hiding. Malfoy you were there, you know what the plan is.”

“Yes but I never figured it would be the two of us responsible for kicking this party off.”

She bit her lip to keep from laughing at his analogy. He caught her movement and rolled his eyes, the smile slowly overtaking his face and he brought the glass to his lips to hide the chuckle he let out.

Hermione snorted and took a drink from her own glass. “Oh please, Malfoy. You’re enjoying this double agent thing don’t deny it.”

He finished the second glass and wrinkled his nose at the fire that burned through to his stomach. “Sure. It’s been quite an enjoyable experience having to worry about your arse all the time.”

He raised his hand for another drink and Hermione raised her brows as she looked at him. He worried about her. Understandably it was a given that he would worry about her slipping up and putting them both at risk, but he hadn’t said that. He said that he worried about her.

The bartender happily brought over the third glass of whiskey and watched with growing amusement as Draco immediately drained it.

“Rough day son?” The man asked.

Draco eyed him with an icy look and Hermione immediately kicked his leg, turning her smile to the bartender. “We’re just tired. We’ve spent all day on the cliff looking for Spring Squill but didn’t have much luck. Also, I don’t suppose you’d have any rooms available for the night?”

Draco glanced over at her in surprise. When she had said a small inn, he had at least pictured it as a free standing building, not an attachment to a somewhat run-down bar. The bartender regarded them before plastering a large grin across his face.

“Of course we do. And if it’s the Squilla you’re looking for, my wife mentioned just the other day that she saw a good patch over by the edge of the moor outside of town. I’d try there tomorrow if the rain stops.”

Hermione smiled her thanks and all but dragged Draco off his stool when the bartender gestured for them to follow him. Draco stumbled a bit with the three whiskeys in him. The low alcohol content of butterbeer definitely did not prepare one’s system and he mentally cursed muggle alcohol.

They ascending two flights of stairs following the surprisingly agile bartender. He unlocked a door at the end of the hall and pushed open the door to flip on the lights. Hermione poked her head inside the room and paused.

“Oh wait, sorry, would you happen to have another room available?” She asked, kicking herself for not thinking of it earlier.

The bartender look between her and Draco with curiosity. “Marital squabble?” he asked with a smile, eyeing the large ring on Hermione’s left hand. “But no, sorry, just the one. Though there are some extra blankets in the chest if the Mr. here would rather sleep on the floor.”

He shot Draco a wink over Hermione’s head. “Though I’m sure you two will work things out. This room has been known to work many a wonder on married couples.”

And with that he handed the key over to Hermione and retreated back down the hall, whistling happily to himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a weird ending :\ I needed to set everything up for the next couple of chapters and it was getting long so...   
> Anyways, hope everyone is having a good weekend!  
> Also if anyone is every curious, I get all the picture from pinterest and own none of them :)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do believe I may have to change to rating on this... enjoy!

Hermione sighed as she and Draco stared into the small room. It was cozy, something she would have loved if she were vacationing on her own. The double bed was draped with a dark blue quilt and stood across from a small, stone fireplace. If it was light outside, they would have seen that the window overlooked a green rolling field, complete with short stone walls.

“Well this is cozy.” Draco observed a casual tone of snark edging his words.

Hermione sighed again and strode into the room, not waiting to see if he followed her. All she wanted to do was to curl up in bed, but her clothes stuck to her with slowly drying rainwater.

Tossing her jacket onto the chest at the foot of the bed, she slipped off her shoes and grabbed the fresh towels from the bed. “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to sleep on the bed, I’ll take the floor.”

Draco eyed her for a moment but then shrugged, if she wanted to be like that then he certainly wasn’t going to stop her. Hermione made her way to the attached bathroom, pausing only to glare at Malfoy as he plopped himself down on the bed, stretching out to his full height to fully take over the bed.

His eyes were closed, and he was snoring slightly when she came back into the room after the shower, clutching a towel to her still wet body. She would have been annoyed but she didn’t exactly fancy the awkwardness of interacting with Malfoy as they shared a bedroom, it was easier this way. The trusty beaded bag held all her essentials for the next couple of days, including a camping roll that she had thought to pack.

The chill in the air was doing nothing for the slight warmth that had been generated in the ancient shower. Pulling her wand from the still wet jacket, she lit the logs in the small fireplace, hoping that it wasn’t simply there for show. Once the fire was lit, she unrolled the sleeping bag in front of it, collapsed onto it and fell asleep listening to the crackle of the fire and the faint sound of Draco’s snores.

***

He woke with a raging headache, light streaming across his eyes that made him squint. He was entirely too warm, and kicked at the blankets covering his legs. The movement only jarred his head further and he let out a groan. What the hell had happened last night?

He sat up slowly, trying to not move his head as much as possible. He groaned again when he saw where he was, remembering the scrappy bar and inn from last night. The thought of killing Granger flitted across his mind as he swung his legs over the bed, wincing at the stiffness of his rain dried clothes.

Standing, he stretched slightly and went directly for the bathroom, seeking to clear the cobwebs from his mind.

The shower did him good and he felt closer to normal when he emerged back into the room. Granger had taken the clothes he had packed prior to leaving the Manor and put them into an impossibly small bag. Glancing around the room he furrowed his brows when he saw the prone figure lying in front of the fireplace, next to her was the bag.

The worn rug felt thin under his feet as he padded across to pick up the bag. He stared down at Hermione as he stood back up; she looked so peaceful as she slept. She was on her side, hands tucked up by her head, her curly hair a mess spread out over the pillow. The blanket was coming off of her slightly, the curve of her plaid clad hip slipping out.

A pang of jealousy ran through him; when the war was over, she would be able to move on with her life, but him? He was a known Death Eater, and for some reason he didn’t think that his participation in the end would make much difference in his sentencing. In the first few days of her presence at the Manor, he had tried to accept his fate, but with each passing day, he felt himself gripping to life more fiercely.

Hermione stirred on the floor slightly as if she could sense someone watching her and Draco stepped away, bringing the bag back into the bathroom with him so he could dress. When he came out again, Hermione was sitting up on her makeshift pallet rubbing her eyes. The t-shirt she was wearing slipped over one of her shoulders and Draco found himself staring at the exposed pale skin.

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked, sleep still muddling her senses. “What time is it?”

He blinked, pulling his eyes away from her and looked out the small window. The sky outside was still dark with clouds and rain pattered against the panes, but he new it was early.

“I don’t know. This place doesn’t even have a clock.” Keeping the annoyance from his voice was more effort than it was worth.

Hermione followed his gaze and sighed, it looks like they would be completing their work in the rain today. Malfoy already seemed to be in a foul mood from the aftereffects of the drink last night, no doubt going back out into the chilly rain wasn’t going to help it.

“There’s a hangover potion in my medical bag.” She said, getting to her feet and flicking her wand at the pallet to roll it up.

“And where would the medical bag be?” Draco asked, his voice gruff.

Shooting him her own annoyed look, she raised her brows. “In the beaded bag of course.”

He glanced down at the bag in his hand and frowned at it. “Merlin, how much crap do you have in here?”

If only he knew, Hermione thought with mild amusement and watched as he dug around in the bag, producing yet another bag. She braided her hair quickly and took the beaded bag from him as he downed the pepper up potion, grimacing as thin streams of steam blew from his ears.

“Don’t ever let me drink muggle alcohol again, alright?” He asked sullenly just as the steam started to dissipate.

Hermione made a small noise of agreement as she passed him.

***

“Are we looking for flowers again today?” Draco asked, his mood only going downhill as they trudged through the knee-high grass in the light drizzle. He had the sense to cast a rain repellant charm over his clothing today, but Hermione put up a fuss about covering his entire body with the charm. She had claimed that muggles wouldn’t quite understand why the water seemed to never come into contact with him.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder at him, her own clothes starting to get slightly damp in the rain. “I just want to check by the moor and see if there are any there. You know that we need to come back with something right?”

He didn’t answer, but continued to glower at her back as they walked.

They had good luck at the moor, his spirits almost lifted with each new patch of the purple flowers they found. Hermione was more than happy, her mouth consistently upturned in a smile as she cut more plants from the ground. During her first trip to the cliffs, she had only found a few blossoms. Right now they had at least thirty of the small purple flowers stashed away in Hermione’s bag. More than enough to make a batch of the antidote, though she doubted they would ever need it again.

After several hours of looking, Draco stood, stretching the ache from his back. His hair was dripping down his shirt, but Hermione’s soft humming had been a great distraction from his discomfort. She was crouched a few feet away from him, the small knife in her hand cut through the roots of the flowers easily.

She looked up at his movement and gave him a slight smile “We probably have enough. Plus it’s getting late. If you’re ready, we could probably go.” She stood and brushed at the dirt caked on the knees of her jeans.

“Go where Granger? Back to the inn? I don’t really fancy sitting around here for another night on an uncomfortable bed freezing my arse off.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and came to stand next to him. “No, Malfoy, not the inn.” She didn’t give him time for further questions before she had gripped his hand tightly in hers and apparated them away from the moor. So much for not using magic out in the open.

He slipped on wet rocks when they landed, swinging his hand out to grab Hermione to steady himself. He swore as she gripped his arms back, both of them using the other to catch their balance.

“Bloody hell, Granger! Give me some warning next time.” He snarled at her over the howling wind.

When he looked around, he almost lost his balance again. They were standing on a tall rock at least half a kilometer from the mainland of the cliff, waves crashed over the rock and would have soaked his feet if it hadn’t been for the spell.

“Are you kidding me?” He yelled over the wind, his hands still gripped Hermione’s arms tightly. “What the hell are we doing?”

Hermione wiped the rain from her face and glared at him. She knew he wouldn’t have taken too kindly to standing on a rock in the middle of the ocean if she had told him beforehand, so had counted on the element of surprise to get his concent. She glanced around them and cursed Harry momentarily, though he did warn her that the way to the cave would be a difficult one.

Over the crash of the waves she could barely see the sliver of black that stood out against the rock face of the cliff. Focusing, she tightened her grip on Draco’s arms and yelled at him to hold on. She turned on the spot, hoping that there was some sort of good footing outside the mouth of the cave for them to land on, otherwise, they were both about to go swimming.

The solid ground under her feet made her sigh in relief and she yelped when Draco yanked on her arms and pulled her several feet out of the way of an oncoming wave. The cold, salty water ran over her shoes, soaking them more than they already were. Letting out a breath, Hermione steadied herself against his chest and tried to take a step back.

“Fuck, Granger!” Malfoy said angrily. The headache from this morning was returning in full force with the apparition. Though he was thankful to find that the protection of the cliff wall blocked the wind from grabbing at them. He was frazzled, more than he cared to admit.

“Sorry.” Hermione said sheepishly. She hadn’t enjoyed the experience any more than he had, but at least she had known what to expect. Harry really was going to get an earful the next time she saw him though. He had described his and Dumbledore’s journey to the cave as ‘not entirely unpleasant’ which only made her want to laugh.

They were standing in the mouth of the tall, dark cave, the rain and waves causing the ground to pool with water, which Hermione sidestepped easily when she detached herself from Draco.

The blond was looking up at the ceiling of the entrance, not quite understanding what exactly they were doing here. This certainly wasn’t the entrance to the cave where Voldemort currently resided; that cave had no real entrance, only reachable by apparition.

Draco followed Hermione across the puddle strewn rock until they reached a sheer rock face blocking them from going further.

“Now what?” Draco asked, eyeing the rock. “Are you telling me that one of Voldemort’s meaningful places was simply a hole in a cliffside?” He reached out a hand and pressed against the rock, hallway expecting it to disappear under his touch.

Hermione didn’t look at him but watched his hand slide down the rock face. “No, according to Harry there’s a large cave behind this, we just need to get past.”

“Okay.” Draco said. “And how do we do that?”

He had barely got the words out when he heard a sharp intake of breath from Hermione. He spun his head to look at her and balked when he saw her finish dragging the sharp blade of the same knife she had used to gather flowers earlier across the palm of her hand. Blood welled immediately and Hermione bit her lip against the pain. Fucking Harry.

“Granger, what the hell?” Malfoy said, his voice breathy with concern. He reached out to take her injured hand in his, but she held it away from him.

“It’s okay. It’s the only way in.”

Draco watched in confusion as Hermione raised her bloody hand to the rock wall in front of them, grimaced as she ran the injured skin over the surface, spreading blood as she went.

For a moment, nothing happened, and Hermione felt a sharp flash of panic run through her. Maybe this wasn’t going to work, maybe after the horcrux was gone the cave would no longer open. Just as the thoughts ran through her mind though, a deep groaning sound filled the space and Hermione and Draco both took a surprised step back.

The stone slide aside in front of them, creating a tall, narrow doorway. Past the entrance was only darkness and Hermione glanced over at Draco to see him staring at the new entrance. She was somewhat surprised to see a hint of fear on his features for, as far as she knew, Draco Malfoy wasn’t scared of anything.

“What exactly is in there?” Draco asked hesitantly, not moving from the spot his feet were rooted to the ground.

“It’s where the locket was kept, the horcrux locket.” Hermione clarified, glancing between him and the cave entrance. “Harry and Dumbledore came to get it the night… the night Dumbledore died.”

He didn’t miss the pause in her words. So Potter had shared with his friends exactly what had happened that night in the astronomy tower, including Draco’s involvement. Draco had long forgiven himself for his role in the old headmaster’s death, especially after Snape had explained to him that the man had already been dying when he was killed.

“The Dark Lord definitely has an affinity for caves.” Draco said finally.

Stepping forward towards the black entrance, he lit the tip of his wand and peered through. The light barely reached ten feet in front of him, swallowed immediately by the complete darkness of the cave. He heard Hermione follow him in, the light from her own wand joining his.

Tentatively, Hermione reached out and took Draco’s empty hand in her own, as much for stability as for comfort. He glanced down at their entwined fingers briefly before continuing on, silently grateful for the reminder of her presence.

The long narrow tube they walked down was damp and smelled of rotten fish. The ground beneath them uneven and they had to scramble over large boulders that littered the floor. How a man of Dumbledore’s age had managed to get through this part was beyond either of them.

Finally, the tube spit them out into a large open cavern and Hermione stared around with large eyes. It was exactly how Harry had described it to her and Ron those years ago.

The space was lit with an ethereal green light that seemed to emanate from nowhere. A large black lake stood in front of them, the slight ripples across the surface reminded Hermione of Harry’s stories of the Inferi that lurked below the water’s surface. She could make out the small island in the middle of the lake where the horcrux had once lain and she felt a slight chill at the ordeal that Dumbledore went through in order to retrieve the locket.

“This is nice.” Draco said sarcastically, looking around the place. He started to step forward to the water’s edge, but Hermione reached out and caught him arm. The movement stopped him, and he looked back at her with raised brows.

“There’s inferi.” Hermione said simply, nodding towards the dark water.

Draco’s eyes widened slightly as he turned to look back at the now still water. The Dark Lord was especially fond of the inferious. Over the years he had amassed an army that, as far as Draco knew, was kept in one of the antechambers of the main cave. No one had ever seen this army but everyone knew it was there.

“Exactly how are we supposed to destroy this place, Granger?” Draco asked after a few more minutes of silent observation of their surroundings. If he knew the Dark Lord, then he knew that there would be loads of protective charms on this place. As one of the most powerful wizards in recent history, any wards placed by Voldemort would be almost impenetrable to magic.

Hermione was arm deep in the beaded bag when he looked back at her and Draco watched with curiosity as she pulled something out. His brows shot up at the object she extended triumphantly to him and he reached out a hand to take it.

“You’ve got to be kidding me?” He said, rolling the stick of dynamite between his hands. “Do you know how dangerous this is?”

Hermione didn’t answer, instead pulled three more sticks from the confines of her bag. “Yes I do. But it’s the only way. Voldemort never would have expected muggles to get in here, and therefore would never expect muggle weaponry to be a valid threat.”

“So you’re going to blow it up?” Draco asked, swallowing against the lump that had formed in his throat.

“No, _we’re_ going to blow it up.” Hermione said simply. “I’ve got fuses and once we light them, we can apparate out. It’s perfectly safe.”

His brows raised as he looked over at her, the apprehension clear on his face. “I’m holding a stick of dynamite and you’re telling me that it’s perfectly safe. Great. I feel much better now.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and pointed her wand at the fuses, effectively extending them so that they were at least twenty feet long. “Extend yours and then put it over there.” She indicated, walking in the opposite direction to place the other three sticks.

She didn’t know much about the use of dynamite, only what she had been able to get from Seamus over the gold coin before she and Malfoy had left the manor. Seamus had a knack for pyrotechnics and was only too excited to share his passion with Hermione when she’d asked. He had told her the best placements of the dynamite in order to cause the most damage and she tried to follow his instructions as she wedged the stick into a crevasse in the cave wall.

The explosion needed to be big enough that it would destroy the cave and everything in it, but not big enough where it would cause the entire ground above to collapse in on itself. And as much as she trusted Seamus, it was really hard to feel confident about his suggestions when he had almost blown himself up on multiple occasions.

Dragging the fuses back to the edge of the lake, Hermione met with Draco again. They entwined all four fuses together and Hermione put them on the ground, looking up at Draco as she raised her wand.

Draco watched with anticipation as Hermione lit the fuses, his hand itched to reach out and grab her so they could apparate out as quickly as possible, but he knew they needed to make sure that the fuses stayed lit. The flash of light hurt his eyes a bit as the fuse flared to live, spitting sparks in every direction. Neither of them noticed the slight disturbance the small balls of fire caused to the surface of the lake.

It would take less at least four minutes for the flame to reach the actual dynamite and Draco watched the small flames make their way towards the sticks. After a minute, Hermione turned to him and nodded.

“Okay, that’s good. We need to go.”

Draco nodded and reached out to take her hand. He started to walk away from the edge of the lake, pulling Hermione with him when she stumbled, crying out as she fell forward to the ground, her hand slipping from his.

Draco spun around to help her and almost yelled himself when he saw what had tripped her. A dripping wet corpse had wrapped its hand around Hermione’s ankle, snarling as it attempted to pull her back towards the lake with it. There were three other inferi leaving the black lake and crawling towards them, their grotesque appearances making Draco’s heart race in his chest.

Hermione cried out in pain at the tight grip on her ankle and kicked out. The inferi were even more horrible than Harry had described them, and fear coursed through her veins. The spells she sent in their direction simply glanced off them, protected likely by yet another one of Voldemort’s wards.

Draco rushed forward, gripped Hermione under her arms and tried to pull her away from the inferi. She only cried out at the pain that gripped her ankle as the inferi came with them. She kicked out at it again as Draco rounded around her, stomping his own foot down on the skeletal arm. A sickening crack resounded in the cave and the inferi’s bony arm snapped in two. Without the usual skin and muscle to hold the bones together, Hermione was able to scoot away, dragging half the inferi’s arm with her.

She bit back the bile that rose in her throat and both she and Draco wrestled the still wriggling hand from her ankle. Draco hoisted her to her feet and pulled her back several feet out of the reach of the approaching inferi, gripping her waist with his hands. A light from the corner of his eye caught his attention and he swore loudly.

“Time to go!” He cried out, gripping Hermione tightly to him as he apparated, hoping with everything he had that there weren’t anti-apparation charms on the cave.

The sharp wind cutting into his clothing proved that there weren’t, and he tightened his arms around Hermione, holding her close to him as the pounding rain beat at his back. A loud BOOM! caught their attention and Hermione pushed back from Draco’s chest to watch as large rock chunks fell from the face of the cliff into the water below.

Their perch on the rock provided an excellent vantage point, albeit a cold one, to the destruction of the cave across the water. A large cloud of dust flew out fromm what Draco assumed was the entrance, and rocks rained down around it. He could only imagine what the inside of the cave must look like and his stomach turned thinking about where they had stood just moments ago.

Rocks continued to fall, and Hermione held her breath as she waited to see if the entire cliff face would collapse into the ocean. After a while, the damage seemed to cease and the only noise they heard was the wind rushing past their ears. She let out a sigh of relief before leaning back to look up at Draco. His arms were still wrapped around her waist and his gaze was trained on the cliff wall.

“We did it.” Hermione breathed out, not entirely sure he heard her over the wind.

He looked down at her and nodded, his arms tightening momentarily as he apparated them to the top of the cliff, more than ready to get off the blasted rock. Once they had landed, Hermione stepped back out of his arms, the adrenaline rushing through her veins finally catching up with her and the pain in her ankle was momentarily forgotten.

Draco watched her carefully as she seemed to stand there in shock, his reaction quickly turning to one of amusement as a large grin broke over her face. 

“We did it! Draco we did it!” She threw her head back to the sky and let out a laugh.

He grunted in agreement and barely had time to think when she barreled into him, wrapping her arms about his neck as she raised herself to meet his lips with her. Shocked, he froze for a moment, feeling the softness of her lips press against his before enthusiastically responding.

His arms were warm as they slipped back around her waist, crushing her to him as his mouth moved hungrily over hers. The combined excitement and adrenaline they both felt spurred their movements on and Hermione sighed as she parted her lips and allowed his probing tongue access to her mouth. He felt so good against her and suddenly the events from moments before were all but forgotten.

His hand buried itself in her hair and without warning they were apparating again. Her head spun as they landed once again, pulling back briefly to see that they were back in the small room at the inn, the bed now made from earlier.

She didn’t have time to say anything before Draco was attacking her mouth again, pushing her back up against the wall in the room as he devoured her. The thrum of adrenaline only made his want for her that much fiercer and he ran his hand up her side to cup her face.

The hard wall at her back was grounding and Hermione threaded her fingers into Draco’s hair, pulling him close just as he did the same to her. The spot in her lower belly started to ache and she let out a small gasp when Draco’s teeth nipped at her bottom lip. His hips canted into hers and made the breath catch in her throat.

“Wait..” She breathed out, pulling back slightly to catch her breath. Her eyes were bright as she looked up at him and saw her own need echoed back from his grey ones.

“No.” Draco said hungrily, smoothing a thumb over her cheek. “We almost fucking died. I want this. Do you?”

It was a simple enough question and Hermione searched his face for a moment more before providing a simple enough answer. Her lips met his again with reckless abandon and her fingers tightened in his hair. _Yes,_ she screamed in her mind.

Draco growled into her mouth and reached down to slide one hand under the hem of her shirt and jacket, finding her skin chilled and damp from the rain and ocean water. Pulling back he used both hands to yank the garments over her head, stepping back once he was done to admire the soft curve of her breasts covered by the dark blue lace.

Hermione fought the urge to cover herself from his heated gaze and instead stepped towards him, finding her Gryffindor bravery and lifted one of his large hands to place it gently over her breast. His fingers were surprisingly warm, and Draco’s eyes widened momentarily at her move before he bent back down to her lips.

She felt so good pressed against him, her small body was strong and yet felt delicate against him as his hand gently squeezed the softness of her breast. Her own hands were roaming his back and grasped the edge of his shirt to pull it up and over his head. When he was free, he pushed her back against the wall, bending slightly to slip his hand down to her arse to lift her against him.

Hermione gasped at the movement and immediately wrapped her legs around Draco’s waist, her tongue dancing with his as his hands cupped her bottom. The hard evidence of his arousal was pressed against her center and she wriggled her hips slightly against it, moaning at the jolt of electricity that zipped through her body at the contact.

Draco pulled back with a quick inhale and the corner of his mouth twitched. They were both breathing heavily, and Draco leaned forward to run his lips along the long column of her neck, breathing in the now familiar vanilla scent of her. He had no doubt that it he were to make amorentia in this exact moment, he would only smell her.

“Draco…” Hermione breathed in his ear and used her hands to bring his mouth back to her. Her wits were coming back to her as the adrenaline wore off, but she had no intention of stopping.

She squeaked slightly as her back left the cold wall and Draco walked them over to the bed, unceremoniously dropping her onto the quilt as he stood back observing her. Gooseflesh rippled across her skin as Hermione leaned up on her elbows to watch him. The pale skin of his bare chest stood out against the darkness of the room and Hermione saw him smirk slightly as he reached down and unfastened her jeans, lifting her hips slightly as he pulled the wet material down her legs.

His own jeans were off in an instant and then he was on top of her, burying his face in her neck as his teeth nipped at her skin. Her breathy sighs were really getting to him as he felt the ache of his erection grow, he wanted nothing more than to vanish the rest of their clothes and bury himself deep inside her, pound into her until he found release.

Instead he brought his lips back to hers, moving his hips against her until she was moaning with need. She swore she saw stars as he slid a hand down between their bodies and moved his fingers over her center, softly applying pressure to her throbbing core.

“Draco, please..” She groaned as she tilted her head back into the mattress. His fingers were magic as they moved against her and she knew she wouldn’t last much longer if he continued.

He chuckled slightly as he looked up at her, truly enjoying the sight before him. The skin over her chest was flushed slightly and her hips moved against his hand, pressing her core closer to him. He slid his other hand behind her back and unclasped her bra, drinking in the sight of her bare breasts as he slid it down her arms.

Hermione shivered as her chest was barred, but ran her hand through Draco’s silvery-blond hair. She met his eyes and held them for a moment, both of them breathing deeply as his fingers continued to dance over her. The pleasure that was ringing through her body was like nothing she had ever felt before, like her nerves were on fire with need. The same feeling was present in Draco’s eyes as he looked down at her. It was a final reminder that they were in this together, no matter what.

His hand left her and slipped around to her bottom to move their position up the mattress more so that they were situated in the middle. Rain slapped against the windowpanes in torrents and in the darkness of the room, under Draco’s warm body, Hermione felt safer than she had in a long time.

Shimmying her hips a bit, she reached down to tug at the material covering Draco’s hips, moving it the rest of the way down his legs with her foot. He grunted as he kicked the boxers free, grunted again when the bare skin of his cock came into contact with her warm heat. There was still the thin layer of her nickers separating them and he let out a small growl as he wrenched them down her legs.

Hermione gasped as Draco fell on top of her again, wedging himself between her spread thighs. The weight of him pressed against her and she moved her hips, feeling the length of his erection against her inner thigh. He groaned at the movement and kissed her again.

“Hermione?” He whispered against her lips, the word as much of a question as a statement. She nodded and pulled his mouth back to hers.

He swallowed her gasp of pleasure as he finally entered her, groaning against her lips at the feel of her tight heat surrounding him. The sensation stole the breath from his lungs, and he resisted the urge to pummel his hips into her. As much as he wanted to quick release of his own pleasure, he wanted to watch her fall apart beneath him.

The full, pressure sensation between her legs was magnificent and Hermione sighed, slowly rocking her hips to encourage Draco to move. It had been a while since she’d slept with anyone, had stopped her escapades with Blaise once the other healer had realized he was in love with Luna. It felt good to be under a man again.

Draco seemed to get her hint and started to move against her, pulling back only to fill her once again. Their breathing picked up the pace as they moved together, each of them thrusting against the other in search of release.

Feeling the pressure build, Draco hooked an arm behind one of Hermione’s knees and leaned back, pulling her leg up as he continued to pound into her. She was making small noises of pleasure that sent shocks right through his system, spurring him on into her wet heat. Her moans turned to small, short gasps, ones that he knew meant she was close.

Collapsing back down on top of her, he lowered his mouth to her breast and grazed his teeth over her hardened nipple, eliciting a short cry from Hermione. Her thighs quivered around him and with the next thrust she fell over the edge, her back arching up against him as the sensation overwhelmed her.

Draco groaned against her soft skin as she clenched around him, nearly driving his own pleasure to completion as her body twitched under him.

He looked up at her face and found that she had her head thrown back with her eyes squeezed shut, her mouth just barely open as her breath halted in her throat. An odd sense of pride flooded his chest and he slowly stroked his cock into her, helping her ride out the final waves of her orgasm.

After a few moments more, Hermione sighed and relaxed under him, her eyes opening slowly to meet his. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth lasted for less than a second before he kissed her again, moving his hips rapidly, over and over again into hers. She gasped at the sudden movement and clutched at his shoulders, riding out his thrusts.

He pounded into her, fast and hard, the headboard of the bed hitting the wall. Thank Merlin they were on the top floor and hopefully far enough from the bar so that anyone down there wouldn’t hear them.

With a final deep thrust, Draco buried his face in Hermione neck, groaning as he spilt into her. Hermione sighed and ran her hand over his back as he gripped her tightly, closing her eyes as she felt him pulse within her. Their skin was sticking together with the thin sheen of sweat as they lay together, the final shocks rippling through Draco’s tense body. 

With a groan, he raised himself up and looked down at her. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair was a mess, slipping out of the braid it used to be in. But her brown eyes were warm with satisfaction as she looked back at him. Draco shook his head and leaned down to kiss her, canting his hips into her.

She pulled away with a slight laugh. “Stop that.”

He dropped his mouth to her jawline and hid the smile that had formed across his lips. “Why? We are married after all.”

For some reason his words were less than comforting, but she was too sated to say anything. She made a small noise as he slipped from her, rolling to the side and collapsing back on the bed. The air hit her tacky skin and a chill ran through her. Reaching down she pulled the afghan that was rumpled at the end of the bed over her.

Rolling on her side, she slid her eyes over the naked form of Draco Malfoy. She couldn’t deny that he was attractive. Incredibly attractive, she correct herself as she let her eyes wander. His body was chiseled under his pale skin, the long torso and legs firm with muscle and Hermione flushed slightly as she remembered the fell of that muscle pressed against her bare skin. He had his arm draped over his eyes as he breathed deeply. Had he not just been fucking her into oblivion, she would have thought he was asleep.

“Malfoy?” She said quietly, pulling the blanket closer to her chest.

He raised his arm and glanced down at her, running his hand absently through his hair. “Hm?”

“We didn’t just complete some sacred, wizarding ritual by consummating our marriage, did we?” The words spilled from her mouth before she could really think about what she had said. It was absurd now that she had said it, but she couldn’t take it back.

Draco bit the inside of his cheek to keep form laughing and tried to keep his features serious. “Um, now that you mention it…”

Her eyes widened and she pushed up on her elbow, staring down at him with shock. The slight twitch at the corner of his mouth gave him away though and she let out a long breath, reaching over to smack his shoulder.

“Prat.” She said, falling back onto the bed next to him. It was odd how comfortable she was laying there completely naked next to him. Less than a year ago, she likely would have stupefied him on the spot, but now…

“Stop thinking so loudly, Granger.” Draco said from next to her and she turned her head to look at him. His arm was back over his eyes.

“I’m not.”

He huffed and rolled on his side, tugging the blanket she had over her to drape across his hips. “I can hear the thoughts zooming through your brain. It’s hurting my ears.”

Hermione clutched at the blanket and rolled her eyes at him. “Then plug your ears.”

They lay in silence for a few minutes more before Draco opened his eyes and looked down at her again. “Is this another thing we’re going to pretend never happened?”

Hermione’s eyes opened and met his. She studied them for a moment, trying to read his expression before responding. “Is that what you want?”

Turning the question back on him immediately raised his defense walls. Was it what he wanted? He didn’t allow himself to get close to people on principle, finding the liability of people too great a risk to take. Casual sex was fine, he never had an issue with finding pleasure when needed. But it felt different with Hermione Granger. It felt good, it felt right, and because of those feelings, it also felt dangerous.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT HAPPENED! As someone who obsesses over fanfiction, I can say I am so excited about what just happened! Even though I'm writing this, it still feels like I'm discovering Hermione and Draco's story along with the rest of you :)  
> I wrote you a juicy chapter, so leave me some juicy comments ;)


	22. Chapter 22

When Hermione woke the next morning, she was alone, curled up under the warmth of the quilt in the chilly room. There was no fire in the hearth and no warmth of a body next to her, the latter realization immediately making another chill shiver through her. She sighed and looked around the empty room, sitting up slowly while her body still feeling the remnants of the night before.

They had fallen together several more times late into the night, allowing themselves to build a sort of cocoon that protected them from the horrors of their lives. Neither had spoken much, other than breathless whispers that interrupted the patter of rain on the window.

The soft glow of dawn illuminated the room as Hermione rubbed at her temple. She didn’t quite know what to feel about what had happened between her and Draco. From the beginning of their deal she had promised herself to keep everything professional. Though at the time she was thinking more about the turbulent relationship of the past as opposed to anything like this.

The click of the door latch didn’t allow her time to ponder further and she clutched the blankets to her naked chest as the door opened. The white blond of his hair appeared first before the rest of him. Water droplets slid off his magicked jacket as he entered the room, sliding slowly to the wood floor. He glanced over at Hermione as he entered before turning to the fireplace and flicking his wand, flames immediately consumed the logs.

“Where did you go?” Hermione asked after a moment, watching as he stripped the jacket from his shoulders and kicked off the mud caked boots.

Draco looked over at her again, his eyes darkening slightly as he took in her bedraggled appearance. Her hair fell thickly around her bare shoulders and her eyes were still soft with sleep. For a moment he wanted nothing more than to rejoin her in the bed, combine their warmth until the chill left his bones.

But he couldn’t. Last night was a fluke, an escape. And now they had work to do.

He flicked his wand and send their things flying into the waiting beaded bag. “I’ve checked the site. Wanted to make sure that there weren’t any visitors while we were still in town here. We should have left right after, no one can know we were here.”

Hermione watched his movements with confusion. Last night he had been warm and soft. The way he had touched her and held her almost erased the memories of the Draco she had known. But now, with his cold tone and impersonal movements, that Draco was back.

“And were there?” Hermione asked, sliding out of the bed, the sheet still held tightly around her as she sought out her clothes. Her shirt flew by her head and she snatched it out of the air, glaring at Draco as the rest of her clothes flew into the bag.

“Were there what?” He asked, digging his hand into the bag with a curse to retrieve her hastily packed garments.

Hermione let out an annoyed breath as she caught the jeans he threw at her. The surreal peacefulness of the morning was entirely forgotten now. “Was there anyone there, Malfoy?”

“No.” He answered sharply, trying to ignore the memories of soft breathy sighs that her voice brought back. “No, but we need to go before there are. The Dark Lord has spies everywhere, we can’t be found here.”

He turned his back indignantly, silently indicating that she should dress. This irked her even more, knowing that not hours before he had known her entire body. It seemed as though she finally had her answer; this was just another thing to pretend never happened. Angrily, she tugged on her clothes, pulling her hair away from her face with sharp movements.

“Alright. You can turn, I won’t burn your eyes anymore.” She said haughtily, shrugging her arms into the deep blue raincoat.

Draco turned slowly, his steel-colored eyes glaring at her. She returned the look with equal stubbornness. Only when he took a quick step towards her did she flinch, taking a step backwards. He sneered at her movement, pleased to find that she still had some sense to fear him.

“Listen Granger,” Draco began, the sharp edge of his voice unmistakable. “What happened last night does not change anything between us. It doesn’t change the fact that the Dark Lord is still alive. It doesn’t change that I’m a Death Eater and you’re part of the Order. We were meant to be enemies from birth, our status does not allow for anything else.”

Hermione narrowed her eyes at his words, hurt mixing with the anger that grew inside her. Their status? Not the first time in her life, Hermione found that she had been wrong. She had been wrong about him, thinking that he had changed simply because he wanted Voldemort dead. But if that’s how he wanted things, then fine.

“You’re right.” She said coldly and yanked the beaded bag harshly away from his clenched hand. “It doesn’t change anything.”

Something flickered momentarily across his face before it hardened again. Giving a curt nod, he stepped back and turned away away, leaving Hermione glaring at his back.

“Glad that’s settled. Now let’s go, I’ve things to do.”

***

Hermione went straight to her room when they returned, dropping Draco’s arm as if it had burned her. She didn’t bother looking at him, the anger still burning bright within her. Once in her bathroom, she scrubbed away any evidence of him. The skin between her legs was already sore but she scrubbed at it, erasing any physical evidence of their coupling.

Once her body was scoured, she simply stood there, letting the hot water beat down on her. She stood under the water for what felt like hours, replaying everything that had happened since they had been in Ireland. The memories of the cave and what happened after, she tucked those deep within the recesses of her mind, burying them until she was sure that Voldemort would never find them.

Less than an hour later she stepped out of the floo into the middle of the Grimmauld Place living room. The place was silent, as she stepped out and brushed the soot off of her arms. Still feeling the anger and hurt from earlier and knowing that Harry and Ron would be able to pick up on her emotions, Hermione paused.

She hated him. Hated him for what he had said, hated him for making her feel anything for him. As she raged, she looked around the room, finding that the comfort she used to find in this place was dwindling. It wasn’t her home. Her home was in Hamstead, back in the safety of her purple bedroom with her parents just down the hall.

The thought of her parents had her breath hitching in her throat and for a moment, she thought that the soft sound of sobbing that met her ears was coming from her until she found that her eyes were dry, and her lips were silent. Concern peaked and Hermione followed the noise into the adjacent sitting room.

The room was dark, curtains drawn across the expansive windows that usually allowed for ample light. Blinking at the sudden lack of light, Hermione saw Ginny curled up in one of the tall wing-backed chairs, her bright red hair covering her face as she pressed it against her knees.

Her heart broke at the site of the once strong and vibrant girl who had lost so much. She was barely a shell of the Ginny she had been. The war having consumed so much of her.

Taking a hesitant step forward, Hermione crouched so she was eye level. The redhead jumped as Hermione placed her hand on the girls knee, bringing her bright blue eyes up to meet hers. Frantically Ginny swiped at her cheeks, trying to vanish any evidence of her upset.

Snatching the girl’s hand to grip tightly in her own, Hermione met her friend’s pained expression. “Gin… what is it?”

Tears spilled from Ginny’s eyes once again and Hermione saw the slight quiver of her lip. Ginny shook her head pitifully and drew in a hiccupping breath. Twice she tried to speak before she was able to get out any words.

“I—I can’t do this Hermione. I can’t do this. Please… please..” The hiccupping sobs punctuated the words and Hermione clenched her jaw, trying to push away every emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.

Since her first year at Hogwarts, Hermione had been there for everyone but herself. She had been there for Harry and Ron whenever they needed her, had been there for her patients, had been there for the Order. She had given everything she had, and she would be there for Ginny.

Letting out a breath, Hermione leaned forward and ran her hands over Ginny’s hair, letting the now sobbing girl fall into her shoulder. She held her as tightly as she could, knowing the terror that was doing this to Ginny.

“It’s going to be alright.” Hermione whispered against Ginny’s hair. “We aren’t going to let anything happen to you. You’re going to be safe. I promise.”

The redhead pulled back to stare at Hermione, her hand slowly left the grip she had on Hermione’s shoulder and let it fall to rest on her lower abdomen. Hermione didn’t even need to follow the path of her friends’ hand to know where it had went. She nodded slowly.

“I know Gin, I know.”

At the words a torrent of tears spilled from Ginny’s eyes, both of her hands now resting protectively over the growing baby within her. How scared she must have felt, Hermione thought with sympathy. How alone.

“Does Harry know?” Hermione asked quietly, stroking the hair back from Ginny’s damp cheeks.

A slight shake of her head.

“Does anyone know? Your mum?”

Another shake.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut for a moment before taking a deep breath to steel herself. Ginny had been pregnant for at least as long as Hermione had been at the Manor, and she had been suffering the fear by herself. What had been obvious to Hermione’s healer trained eye had apparently eluded the rest of the order, leaving the poor girl alone.

“What do you want to do?” Hermione asked, keeping her voice level. Having a baby in the midst of a war was not only terrifying, but also dangerous. It was an added liability, especially when both its parents were members of the Order. Hermione had had many witches come to her over the past few years seeking council about unplanned pregnancies, and she had always asked them the same question.

The fear in Ginny’s eyes was one that Hermione had seen numerous times, but there was something else, something stronger. Fierce determination. Ginny was and always had been a fighter, and she would fight for her baby, Hermione knew it.

Hermione nodded and smiled slightly at her friend. “It’s okay.” She said softly, smoothing down the hair around Ginny’s face.

“I love this baby, Hermione.” Ginny whispered, her hands still protectively over her stomach. “I love it more than I’ve ever loved anything, even Harry.” She admitted with a small smile.

“I know you do.” Hermione said. “You’re going to be a fantastic mother, Ginny. Your baby is going to be loved and protected by everyone around it, including me. You just have to tell me what you need.”

For a moment Hermione watched as Ginny’s lip began to quiver again, watched as her friend fought against the tears that threated to spill over. But after another moment, she watched as the redhead clenched her jaw, finding the courage that had left her over the past few years. She watched as Ginny became a mother who would do anything in her power to protect her baby.

“I need to tell Harry.” Ginny said, her voice wavering only slightly.

“Tell me what?” Came a voice from the doorway and both girls looked over to find the man in question staring down at them with a bewildered look.

He looked tired from whatever mission he had been on, the dark circles under his eyes betraying him. But as soon as he saw the remnants of tears streaked down Ginny’s face, the fatigue immediately changed to a look of concern. He rushed forward and dropped to his knees next to Hermione, reaching out for Ginny.

“What’s going on?” He asked frantically, glancing between his girlfriend and his best friend.

Ginny tried to smile but the tears that only moments ago were held at bay spilled over. She nodded through them and gripped Harry’s arms. Smiling reassuringly at Ginny, Hermione gave her knee a final squeeze before pushing to her feet. This was their moment, their baby, their future.

She slipped out of the room quietly, pausing just outside as Harry gave a strangled cry as he heard Ginny’s news. Turning momentarily, Hermione saw the coupled pressed together; Harry cradling Ginny against him as he whispered into her hair, a shocked grin across his face. This is what she was fighting for, Hermione reminded herself. For the chance at a future. 

Several minutes later, Harry and Ginny appeared in the kitchen, holding hands and looking happier than Hermione remembered seeing them in a long time. She set the mug she had filled with tea on the counter behind her and went to them. Immediately Harry dropped Ginny’s hand and crushed Hermione to his chest, burying his face in her unruly hair.

She closed her eyes, enjoying the hug, knowing that there were no strings attached, no expectations between the two of them. He was her family, and his family was about to grow.

Harry pulled back and grinned down at her, the pure joy in it was infectious and Hermione’s mouth immediately following suit, the pair of them starting to laugh.

“I’m so happy for you.” Hermione said, glancing over his shoulder as she reached out to grip Ginny’s hand. “For you both. If you ever need anything..” She trailed off as Harry shot Ginny a knowing look. “What?”

“Well…” He started, grinning back at Hermione. “There is one thing. And we know it’s a lot, especially with everything you’re going through with your mission but, we’d… we’d like you to be the baby’s godmother.”

Hermione’s eyes widened, looking between her two friends with shock. She swallowed at the lump in her throat, replaying the words in her mind. Godmother. To a baby. She knew that in the wizarding world being someone’s godparent was almost as binding as an adoption contract. She knew that it meant that if anything happened to the baby’s parents, it would be her responsibility.

It was a moment before she found her voice.

“Harry, I don’t know. I’m honored but..”

Harry interrupted her, gripping her hand like a vice in his. “There’s no one we would trust more to take care of our baby if something happened to us. You’re my best friend Hermione. You’re the smartest person I will ever know and you’re also the kindest. We know you would raise our child as we would have. Please?”

She paused for a moment, biting her lip as she met his green eyes. After a few seconds, she nodded, pushing down the growing apprehension that built within her. If something happened to Harry and Ginny, which with the way things were shaping up with the war effort was more likely than not, she would be responsible for their baby.

With their current situation something was more likely to happen to her than either of them, but she couldn’t shake the cold sense of dread in her stomach. The status quo was shifting. It had shifted the first time Malfoy had kissed her, shifted further when they slept together, and now this.

“Hermione!” Ron exclaimed happily as he entered the room and interrupted her thoughts. “Finally got sick of the ferret?”

Hermione blinked a few times as she tried to push back the fear that had made her stomach roll. Turning her attention to the newcomers, she rolled her eyes as George and Charlie waltzed into the room behind Ron. Other than for official Order meetings, it was rare to see the remaining Weasley children all in one room, especially with the absence of Bill who was working with the resistance in France with Fleur.

She accepted a hug from each of them, nodding slightly at the somewhat pleading look in Harry and Ginny’s eyes. She was good at keeping secrets at this point.

As per usual, they all settled around the table, Hermione updating them with the story of her and Draco’s escapades in Ireland, conveniently leaving out more than a few parts. The group whooped and congratulated her on their success, the grins spread wide on their faces was infectious.

“So step one complete.” George said, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied expression. “Well done, Granger.”

“It wasn’t all me.” Hermione said, remembering Draco’s actions in the cave. He had saved her life. If he hadn’t been there, if it had just been her, she would have been blown to pieces along with the rest of the cave.

“Yeah, I’m sure ferret was a big help.” Ron snorted humorlessly, earning a chuckle from Charlie.

Hermione’s eyes snapped over to him. “He was Ron. I honestly couldn’t have done it without him. At least not have come out alive. Malfoy has been nothing but helpful to us over the past few months. He has been put in more dangerous situations than you know in order to protect me, to protect this secret. Don’t degrade what he has done.”

The group looked at her stunned. It wasn’t necessarily uncommon for Hermione to defend people that others didn’t think deserved it, but to hear the passion with which she spoke about Malfoy, that was surprising.

“Relax, Mione. It was a joke.” Ron said, his brows drawing together at her outburst. 

Hermione caught a look from Ginny but ignored it. “None of this is a joke, Ron. You have no idea what it is like being there. At least for me I have my disguise to hide behind. Nothing that happens there affects me as Hermione Granger, but for Malfoy it’s different. He is putting everything on the line. If we were to be found out, I at least have the chance to escape and Olivia would effectively disappear. Draco doesn’t have that.”

The group sat in silence, each of them staring at her like she had grown two heads. The annoyance at their continued bigamy against the person who was supposed to be their ally, grew louder in her head. When no one said anything else, she pushed back from the table, keeping her hands on the rough wood surface as she gave each of them a stern look.

“Right now Malfoy is doing more than half the people in the Order. He is helping. Try to remember that.”

And with her words she gave a final look to Ginny, hoping to convey everything she hadn’t gotten to say to the witch, and left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter for this one :) I don't mean to keep jerking you guys around but also want to keep tensions high between our favorite ship...


	23. Chapter 23

She was no longer angry when she returned to the Manor. Whatever animosity she had held towards Draco had faded with the realization that he was taking the smartest actions in regard to their tryst. Nothing was more important than winning this war, and for that she was willing to put her feelings aside.

“Where have you been?”

Hermione looked up from her book at the dining room table to find Draco standing in the doorway. She had left without telling him, running away to the Order in her anger. Only on her return had she realized how stupid a decision that was. Draco was the only one who would know if they were summoned to the Dark Lord’s council. If she weren’t around and he had no idea where she was, then he would be in trouble.

“How do you know I’ve been anywhere but here?” She had floo’d from the fireplace in her room, for all Draco knew she had just been hiding in her room.

His expression didn’t change from the nonchalant one he wore but there was a slight tilt to his head. “You really don’t think that I know when someone floo’s in or out of my home?”

Hermione looked down at her book briefly, of course he did. He protected that which was close to him. He protected his family heritage, he had protected his mother while she was still alive, and against his better judgement he had protected her.

“I went to headquarters. The Order needed to be updated on Ireland and before you say anything else,” She added as he opened his mouth and saw the flicker of anger in his eyes. “I know it was wrong. I know that it was a stupid decision and I’m sorry. I was angry and I shouldn’t have been. I understand what could have happened if I wasn’t here, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”

Draco stared at her for a few silent moments, as if fighting a war against the anger he had been so ready to hurl in her direction. Hermione waited patiently. His reaction was to be expected and she was ready to face the consequences. So she waited, nervously running her thumb over the smooth material of her pajama pants.

Finally, the war ended and Draco nodding slightly. “Okay.”

Hermione’s brows raised in surprise, surely he would have had a larger reaction than this. If she had pulled the same stunt within the ranks of the Order, Kingsley would have skinned her alive. “Okay?”

Draco shrugged and crossed the room to take the chair opposite her at the table. “There’s nothing more to say. Just don’t do it again, you’re lucky we weren’t summoned.”

Still staring at him with a bemused expression, Hermione nodded. “Of course.”

After a moments silence, just as Draco was about to speak again, he hissed in pain, his right hand automatically coming up to cover the burning pain in his left. It seems that she had returned home just in time. It was as if the very mention of being summoned had triggered it so.

Their eyes met for only a moment before Hermione was racing from the room, tearing up the stairs to her own room for the ring. She stripped off the pajamas that she had changed in to earlier, grabbing the first thing in the pile of clothes still waiting to be put away in in her closet. Her heart was pounding against her chest and she finished zipping up her jacket on her way back down the stairs.

Draco was obviously fighting against the intense pain of his fiery tattoo when she returned to his side, out of breath and sporting her disguise. His eyes were closed, and she could see the muscles of his jaw tense as he clenched his jaw.

“Are you alright?” Hermione asked, concern mounting at the pinched look on his face. Normally when they were summoned the pain was mild, only a nagging reminder that their presence was required elsewhere. From his reaction Hermione could only assume that this time the pain was much different which could only mean one thing; Voldemort was angry.

Draco didn’t answer, instead reaching out to grip her hand tightly in his before turning on the spot, seeking the blessed relief that came with their arrival.

The cave was abuzz with activity when they arrived; Death Eaters swarmed about them in the large space and Hermione tucked herself close to Draco’s side as they navigated through the crowd. Draco saw Voldemort at the head of the cave and felt his stomach twist into knots. The Dark Lord was angry, angrier than Draco remembered ever seeing him.

The pale figure was standing at the edge of the platform, his dark red eyes visibly flitting over his crowd of followers. He almost looked anxious, but it was only the rage ripping through his veins. Draco could almost feel it coming off of the man in waves. The twitching of Voldemort’s fingers had Draco shifting slightly to stand in front of Hermione, knowing that in this state, the Dark Lord wouldn’t hesitate to curse someone just to relieve some tension.

“My Lord.” Draco said, inclining his head respectfully but cautiously as they reached the front. Bellatrix and the other head council members were already present including Lucius. Draco’s father watched his son as he approached, narrowing his eyes at the black-haired witch beside him that was now his wife.

“Draco.” Voldemort hissed in acknowledgment, his red eyes flashing. Without a further word, the Dark Lord swept by the pair, moving back to the front of the dais. Draco gestured at Hermione to join the line of other council members, watching with warry eyes as Voldemort raised his hands to quiet the crowd.

The eerily green light was reminiscent of what they had seen in the cave, it glinted off the almost white skin of the snake-man in front of them. The anger that radiated off Voldemort sent ripples throughout the crowd, his followers bristling as they felt their Lord’s upset.

“We have been attacked!” Voldemort cried, louder than Hermione had ever heard him.

He must know about the cave, she thought with a sharp shock. It had only been a day, but he must know. Only something like a personal attack would rile the Dark Lord; he didn’t care about anything else enough to react like this. She resisted the urge to look up at Draco, focusing instead on the feel of his solid presence besides her.

“The pretenders think that they can bring us down.” Voldemort continued. “They think that they can attack us without retaliation, without consequences.”

A few sneers and sharp insults rang throughout the crowd. Hermione could see that almost all of them were clenching their wands, itching to obey any of their master’s orders. It seemed odd that he was riling them up for a cave that was already destroyed as there was nothing they could do about it.

“The pretenders are at the moment attacking a place that I hold sacred.”

Hermione fought to keep her face neutral at the news, but this time did risk a look up to Draco. He wasn’t looking down at her, but she felt the soft pressure of his hand on her lower back and she immediately turned her gaze back to Voldemort. The man was all but fuming now, pacing quickly back and forth on the edge of the stony platform.

“They believe that we would not find out in time. But,” He paused in his pacing, turning with open arms to his followers, a terrifying grin overtaking his face. “we are well informed.”

The silent anticipation Hermione sensed from the crowd was unsettling and the air seemed to hum in vibration. Voldemort could sense this as well, and with his arms still outstretched he said a final, simple word.

“Begin.”

The cave erupted at this, shouts and bangs accompanying the flashes of light that filled the dark cavern. Hermione jumped at the noise and watched as the crowd disapparated in masses. Confusion gripped her in the chaos and she turned to Draco.

“Let’s go.” He said quickly, gripping her arm tightly as he brought her through the crushing darkness with him.

The site was unfamiliar when they landed and Hermione whipped her head around to take everything in. It appeared to be like any other muggle street, tall buildings lining the cobblestone street. Streetlights lit the dark sky but the flashes coming from the building in front of them were brighter.

A flurry of activity could be seen from within the windows of the tall building. Death Eaters that were still appearing on the street would rush immediately into the building, their wands held high. One knocked into Hermione’s shoulder and she stumbled a bit, turning to drag Draco away from the flood of people.

They made their way as inconspicuously as possible to the side of the building, ducking behind a large hedge that lined the brick. In the flurry of chaos, she hoped their movements wouldn’t be noticed.

“What’s happening?” She asked when they were a safe distance away from the battle, turning towards him.

Draco shook his head, gripping his own Hawthorne wand in his hand as he covertly looked over the hedge. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Did your friends say they were attacking anything else tonight?”

Hermione shook her head, flinching as a loud bang sounded from inside the building. “No. I was just there not two hours ago. They wouldn’t have acted this quickly unless they already had it planned. But they didn’t tell me anything.”

She paused, thinking about her quick exit. She hadn’t exactly given them the chance.

Draco glanced down at her. “Any idea what this place is then?”

From the list that the Order had created during their initial planning sessions, it could only be one place: the orphanage.

She explained to Draco the significance of the place, trying to speak quickly so their time away from the fighting was minimalized. The longer they stayed out of the building, the higher the chance was that someone would notice their absence.

A scream sounded from someone from inside, making Hermione glance uneasily over the top of the hedge. Not knowing if it was from one of her friends was making her anxious. At the hospital raid at least she had been able to prepare for the possibility that someone that she loves might get hurt and she wouldn’t be able to intervene. But all she wanted to do at this moment was to rush into the building to the aid or the Order.

The healer in her was also anxious. Having been trained to work in battle, she knew that there were people inside who may need her assistance. The adrenaline was reaching an edge and she needed to get in before it started to dissipate.

Draco noticed her fidgeting and peered over the hedge, making sure that they wouldn’t be seen leaving their hiding place. He nodded at Hermione and almost had to hold her back with how quickly she sped off.

He felt a peak of anxiety as he watched her disappear through the front door of the building, immediately ducking under a flash of red light. The spontaneity of this attack was grating at his nerves. From the position the Death Eaters had elevated themselves to throughout the war, it had been a long time since they had entered into a battle or a raid unprepared.

Even despite the noise and flashing lights, the place still had an eerie feel to it, Draco thought as he entered. The walls were painted black and seemed to suck the light into it. No wonder Voldemort was the way he was, Draco thought briefly as he flicked his wand to create a shield charm against a curse, this place would turn anyone evil. The order member who had cast the spell in his direction seemed to recognize Draco and narrowed his eyes at the man before turning away, understanding the agreement that came with their alliance.

Hermione ascended the stairs, stepping over a body that lay strewn across them. Her instinct to find her friends was driving her movements, the need to know that they were okay was overpowering.

Someone pushed past her as she reached the top of the steps, knocking her harshly into the railing. She raised her wand in defense but hesitated when she saw the bright blond hair. Her moment of relief at the sight was quickly destroyed when the figure turned back to her and instead of Draco staring back at her, it was the sharp features of his father.

“Look alive, healer.” The man said menacingly, his lips splitting into a grin that showed off his rotten teeth. The time at Azkaban had damaged him, both body and mind. “Would hate for my son to be a widower after only weeks of marriage.”

Hermione stared at him, the hate she held for this man making her vision cloud. He had been responsible for the death of Percy Weasley, for the death of Alistair Moody, and for countless others. Unlike Draco, Lucius Malfoy did not have an issue with killing.

Lucius narrowed his eyes momentarily at her lack of response before he turned away slowly, moving back to his original path. As his back turned to her, Hermione let out a deep breath, loosening her grip on the railing behind her and feeling the blood rush back into her hands. It was all she could have done not to curse the man right then and there.

She followed after him, checking into every room before moving on to the next. Not surprisingly, the place was empty of any innocent inhabitants. Hermione knew that Harry never would have let any of the children or staff members come to any harm. He would have insisted that before attacking this place, everyone be cleared. She wondered briefly if that is where he had been prior to finding her and Ginny at Grimmauld Place.

The third room down the hall was in contrast full of light and noise. She blinked at the flashes of magic and watched in horror as Ginny fought against Bellatrix. Red light flew over the black haired witch’s head and Bellatrix effortlessly shot back her own curse, Ginny barely dodging it.

Hermione felt her heart raise to her throat, she needed to do something. Ginny was losing, that much was obvious from the pained look on the girl’s face and the way she clutched at her side.

Without a further moment’s thought, Hermione raised her own wand and send a spell at Bellatrix’s back, dropping the witch to the floor immediately. Ginny stumbled in shock as her opponent fell, raising her eyes to meet Hermione’s before dropping to her knees on the floor.

Rushing forward, Hermione supported Ginny’s shoulders before the witch collapsed entirely. She wanted to throttle Harry for allowing her to come here, especially with the revelation of her current condition.

Hermione smoothed the hair back from Ginny’s face. “Are you alright? Where are you hurt?” Her voice was steady but there was a frantic edge to it.

Ginny couldn’t speak, only shook her head as silent tears slipped down her face. Her hand was still clutching her side and Hermione pulled it away to see bright red blood shining against the pale skin that could be seen through the tear in her shirt.

“Ginny.” Hermione breathed out, immediately helping to lower the girl to the floor. She moved quickly over her friend, pulling the blood-soaked shirt away from her abdomen to further reveal her injury. Her brows furrowed when she saw the deep puncture wound, undoubtedly from a knife; Bellatrix’s weapon of choice.

Blood flowed freely across Hermione’s fingers as she applied pressure, her other hand digging in the small beaded bag she was never without. After producing the bottle of Dittany, Hermione watched as the skin attempted to knit together, aided some by the quickly whispered healing spells. 

Ginny had begun to shake, the effects of adrenaline and shock finally catching up to her. The sobs that fell from her lips were loud now, cutting through the silence in the echoing room. She wasn’t fully healed, Hermione observed with dismay, the wound was too deep for a triage healing to fix entirely. She needed to get back to the hospital.

“Ginny, I’m going to send you to the Burrow. Okay? You’re going to be alright.”

The red-head nodded through her sobs, her hand gripping Hermione’s arm. Just as Hermione pressed the newly made portkey into the girl’s fingers, a movement at the door of the room caught her eye. As Ginny’s body disappeared, Hermione felt her heart drop as the figure of Lucius Malfoy came into focus.

She couldn’t move, even her breath was frozen in her throat. Lucius didn’t move either, instead simply stared at her. Slowly, a sneer spread across his lips and his brows raised at her before he turned away from the door, shaking his head as he left. He didn’t say anything, then again, he didn’t need to. He had seen enough.

Hermione’s breath left her burning lungs and she brought her hands to her throat, feeling like her heart was about to pound from her chest. She had ruined everything. She had failed her mission and now Lucius was going to tell Voldemort.

She needed to find Draco. The thought was clear as a sunny day when it came to her, pushing her to move. He had the chance to get away before his father relayed the message. She needed to get him out.

Her feet felt numb as she stumbled out into the hall. She had no idea where he was, having separated even before entering the building. Lucius would exploit any opportunity to put himself back in the good graces of his master, even if it meant that his own son would die. They had very little time.

She finally found him, up another flight of stairs. He was speaking with a Death Eater Hermione didn’t recognize when she reached the top of the landing, his gestures sharp as they spoke. At Hermione’s entrance, he glanced up, his eyes immediately hardened when he saw the look on her face and the blood on her hands.

The other Death Eater saw her as well and after a glance between the two, respectfully slipped past Hermione back down the stairs where yelling and loud bangs could be heard.

“What happened?” Draco asked as soon as the other man had left, stepping forward but stopping his hand from reaching out to touch her.

Hermione shook her head, trying to get the ringing in her ears to stop. “Your father…” She began, blinking as the fear overwhelmed her. 

Draco bent slightly so he was eye level with her, reaching out to grab her upper arms and shake her slightly. “Granger. Get it together. What about my father.”

His icy tone cut through her thoughts and she blinked up at him. “He saw me helping Ginny.”

Draco’s expression darkened and he narrowed his eyes at her. “What exactly did he see?”

Her eyes were pleading and she willed him not to be angry with her. “She was hurt Draco, dying. I didn’t have a choice. And your father saw me with her just as I sent her off. He knows.”

Draco cursed and dropped his hands form her arms, turning away from her as he looked wildly around the room. The memory of Healer McNamara’s death in the cave replayed vividly in his head, only this time is was Hermione that lay lifeless on the cold, rock of the cave floor. Letting the fury overtake him, Draco punched the wall closest to him, making Hermione jump.

He ran his injured hand through his hair, ignoring the pain. Turning back to her, he met the blue eyes of her disguise, thankful that she didn’t look like herself in this moment. He didn’t know what to say, shaking his head slightly. They were done. His father didn’t care enough about him to protect him.

An enormous bang sounded from below them, making both of them jump and spin around. Hermione felt the floor below them start to shake and a panicked realization came to her.

“They’re going to destroy it. We have to get out.” She spun around, about to head to the stairs but was stopped by Draco’s hand on her arm.

“Are you a witch or not?” He asked. Even in the fear and panic that gripped both of them, the corner of his mouth twitched slightly.

Hermione blinked, vibrations from the tremors below running up her legs. “Right.” She stepped back towards Draco and gripped him tightly as he spun on the spot.

Just as they disappeared, the floor on which they had been just standing collapsed, falling down into the growing fire that had been set below. The orphanage was gone. Tom Riddle’s home for most of his adolescent life was gone.

***

The air in the Manor was blissfully cool against Hermione’s skin as they landed clumsily in the library at the Manor. Her heart still raced but she took a moment to be relieved that Draco had had the wherewithal to not go to the cave. But the moment quickly faded. They had to act now. Once Lucius told Voldemort of their betrayal, it would only be a matter of seconds before they were hunted down and killed.

“We have to go.” Hermione said quickly, slipping the gold ring from her fingers as she turned towards the door. Olivia would never see the light of day again. She was dead and buried, had been the moment that Lucius had caught her helping the enemy.

Draco nodded and began to follow, mentally ticking off everything they would need to grab before leaving. He almost couldn't believe what was happening. In all of their careful planning about not being caught, a single moment of weakness had ruined it for them. He didn't blame Hermione, thinking what he would have done for his own friends. But it still didn't change the fact that they were both dead men now. 

They made it halfway across the room before a figure stepped into the doorway, the light behind them only illuminating the outline of their body. Hermione gasped and stopped in her tracks, causing Draco to almost bump into her.

The light from the lanterns on the library wall was barely bright enough to see the features of the man as it took another step into the room. But it was enough to see the familiar bright blond hair and angry expression.

“Leaving so soon?” Lucius Malfoy asked menacingly, the gleam in his eyes brightening further as he saw his son, standing protectively beside the known rebel, Hermione Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry! Cliffhangers are not something I enjoy as a reader but sometimes they just can't be helped :) I'll try and get the next chapter up as soon as I can!  
> Thanks to everyone for your reviews and comments thus far! I really do appreciate feedback and try to address any points that are brought up. Along those lines, I had a couple of comments about the wedding scene being rushed so I am going to go back today and flesh it out. Look for the updated chapter by the end of the day!
> 
> UPDATE! Well that didn't take long, wedding scene is good to go! I hope it works better now and feels less rushed. Again thank you for the feedback!


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Side note, I've updated the rating and tags of this story so that it is more appropriately represented. Warning this chapter may hold triggers for some regarding sexual assault.

“By all means, don’t rush out on my account.” Lucius’s voice was calm, holding almost an edge of humor to it. He took another step into the library, letting his eyes roam over the pair in front of him.

He was enjoying this, Hermione noted, her own breath frozen in her lungs Draco’s father was someone she had avoided like the plague since being undercover in Voldemort’s ranks. Though the relationship between father and son may have soured, there was still the connection that could have made Lucius intervene on Draco’s behalf. And for all he knew, she was an outsider who had convinced his son to marry her after only two months.

Then again, none of that mattered anymore.

“Father…” Draco said cooly, taking a miniscule step closer to Hermione, bringing his body at a slight angle in front of hers.

The action wasn’t missed by Lucius whose eyes gleamed even brighter as he caught the movement. The man raised a brow in their direction and let a grin slip over his mouth.

“Don’t worry, Draco. I would never harm your wife. She is part of the Malfoy lineage now, and Malfoys… must be protected.” Lucius held up his hands in a gesture of surrender.

Draco’s eyes narrowed, not believing his father for a minute. His expression was stone and Hermione could feel how tense he was from where she stood.

“However,” Lucius continued, letting his hands drop to his sides. “This is quite obviously not your wife. Unless of course I imagined your entire wedding ceremony and you actually did marry this mudblood.”

Hermione felt Draco bristle next to her at the word and resisted the urge to place her hand on his arm. His protective nature had surprised her over the time that they had worked together, manifesting exponentially after their night in Ireland. However a word was not reason enough to escalate things sooner than they had to.

“So would you care to explain to me what is going on Draco? Before I report your wife’s actions to the Dark Lord, I’d like to give you an opportunity to remove yourself from the situation. Though I doubt our master will grant you any leniency, I would still hate to see the Malfoy line end because my son in a traitor.”

“Better a traitor than a murderer.” Draco said, his voice cold.

Lucius narrowed his eyes slightly, a strand of blond hair falling across his forehead as he tilted his head. “Is it though?”

The air between the three of them chilled as though a winter storm blew through the Manor. Hermione could almost reach out and pluck the strands of tension running between father and son. Instead she lifted her hand to place on the back of Draco’s arm, hoping that the reminder of her presence would calm the anger in his voice.

It was apparently the wrong move as rage overtook Lucius’s features as he saw the contact between them. With speed of movement that argued against his age, the blond flicked his wand in their direction, taking them both by surprise. Hermione let out a yelp as the force of the spell hit her, flinging her backwards across the room.

Her head smacked against the hard wood floors as she landed on her back and for a moment her vision went black as pain overwhelmed her. The landing had taken her breath away and she gaped like a fish as she tried to inhale, blinking against her dark vision. Finally she was able to inhale, gasping loudly as her screaming lungs filled with air. Her vision returned slowly, the edges still fuzzy as she began to push herself up from the ground.

At first, she thought the bright flashes were from her head injury but then the room cleared enough to see the duel happening before her. Draco and his father were flinging spells at each other, dodging and putting up shield spells, the movements of their wands blurry. She watched with anxiety before coming to her senses and regaining her feet, pulling out her wand as she did.

Her own magic joined with Draco’s as she moved to stand next to him, their combined efforts causing sweat to bead on Lucius’s forehead. He was good, but not good enough for the both of them. Unless they faltered.

And they did.

“ _Avada Kedavra_!” Lucius screeched out, his wand flourishing.

Draco felt his heart skip at the all too familiar curse, pausing in his cast for only a split second as a bright green light flew in Hermione’s direction, the concern for her overwhelming him for the briefest moment. The shield spell she threw up in front of her deflected the light, but just as she saved herself, Draco hesitated.

He didn’t even see the curse coming his way, only felt it as it ripped through his body.

Draco felt the breath leave his lungs as he stumbled backwards and fell to his knees, the sharp pain radiating from his chest making him drop his wand. Just as he had been concerned for Hermione, she was concerned for him. She took a single step towards Draco as soon as she saw the spell hit him, losing her concentration.

It was a moment of weakness for both of them, Draco met her eyes for a split second before Lucius disarmed her. Hermione yelped in surprise as the wand was ripped from her hand, barely having the time to look over to Lucius before she felt herself flying off her feet.

With another flick of his wand she slammed into the wall behind her, her arm held immobile aside her head. The second blow to her head was just as painful as the first and she blinked to bring the blurry room back into focus. Instead of sliding down to the floor she was held there, her position reminiscent of the one she had been in the first time Draco had brought her to the Manor.

Draco watched the attack with growing anger and fear, trying to catch his breath at the twisting pain in his chest. It was so deep that he could barely move, even the effort of breathing felt like the skin was being torn from his body. The hard-wooden floor dug into his knees as he watched Hermione struggle against the magic binding her.

Lucius let out a sigh and twirled Hermione’s wand between his fingers, stepping gracefully over to where his son was struggling for breath on the ground.

He stood over Draco and looked down at him, darkness falling over his expression as he observed his only child. “I gave you a chance Draco. I may have spared you if you had shown your true loyalties. But now..” He clicked his tongue with a shake of his head. With a quick movement, he stomped down on Draco’s wand that was laying next to him, effectively snapping the hawthorne wood in two.

“You are no son of mine.”

The words sliced through the chilly air and Draco tried to reach out and grab at his father’s black robes as he stepped past him, letting out a small groan of protest as Lucius moved over to where Hermione was pinned to the wall. He was as immobile as her, any movement was agony.

The witch struggled against the invisible bonds holding her, feeling the pressure and pain build with each wriggle against her restraint. Lucius stepped closer until he was eye to eye with Hermione, smiling softly as her breath tickled the skin on his face.

“You’re Potter’s mudblood aren’t you?” Lucius asked softly, bringing his hand up to run a fingertip over the pink skin of her cheek.

She jerked her head away from his hand, her head throbbing with the movement. “Don’t touch me.” She snarled, glaring at Lucius.

His face contorted with the ever so carefully concealed rage, lips twisting into a sneer. “I don’t think I gave you permission to speak. _Silencio_.”

Hermione felt her heart drop at the spell, feeling even more helpless as Lucius took her voice as well as her movement. She flinched again as Lucius reached for her, more forcefully this time. He gripped her chin tightly and turned her head from side to side, examining her features like one would an animal they were about to purchase.

“While I prefer your alter, I suppose I can see the appeal of your beauty. Draco would be a fool not to notice.” He said softly, his thumb slowly lowering to stroke over Hermione’s bottom lip. 

“Get your hands off her.”

Lucius’s hand paused and he grinned for a moment, his fingers tightening on Hermione’s jaw to the point where, if she would have had her voice, a small whimper of pain would have escaped from her mouth. He released her with a sharp movement, turning only slightly to look back at his son.

Draco was still kneeling on the floor, his hand clutching the searing pain in his chest. The anger he felt seeing his father paw at Hermione almost overwhelmed the pain he was feeling. Almost. His breath was ragged and Lucius grinned at Draco’s obvious discomfort.

“Or what?” The elder Malfoy asked, raising his wand in Draco’s direction. “You’ll kill me? We both know that you won’t. You don’t have what it takes. You always were weak.”

“But,” he continued, his brows raised in interest as he spared a glance back to Hermione. “Maybe you just never had the proper motivation.”

Another grin slipped across his face and Hermione’s eyes widened as Lucius turned slightly. “What would it take, Draco?” He asked, looking back over his shoulder to his son but reaching out his hand in Hermione’s direction.

She held her breath as he touched her, running his fingers across her cheek and trailing them down her neck. He didn’t look at her as he touched her, instead keeping his gaze locked on Draco to ensure his son saw what he was doing.

“A simple touch? Is that enough?” Lucius crooned, placing his hand flat against Hermione’s throat. He squeezed tightly and Hermione let her eyes drop from his face to Draco’s.

The anger was shimmering on the surface of his grey eyes, his hands shook as he continued to fight to breath. She had no idea what spell he had been hit with, but the slightly blue tinge around his lips was enough to make her own heart begin to race. He didn’t have much time.

“Oh this is just precious.” Lucius said with a laugh, looking between his son and the woman pinned to the wall. “Tell me Draco, have you had her yet?” He met Draco’s eyes and laughed again.

“How was it? I’m so pleased that the disguise did not extend to her body. The Order must obviously have a very strict training regime.” Lucius smirked at his son again before turning back to Hermione. The hand on her neck loosened and he trailed his fingers lower, sliding across her collar bone and lower. Hermione closed her eyes and tried to block out his touch as it slid over the side of her breast, pausing to let his palm spread out to cup her.

“I said …don’t…. fucking… touch her.” Draco rasped out, struggling to keep himself upright as he bent at the waist. The breath leaving his lungs wheezed audibly past his lips. Hermione could see his wand on the floor next to him, her heart dropping as she saw the fractures pieces.

Lucius didn’t turn back to his son, instead he moved his face closer to Hermione’s, his hand still pressed warmly against her chest. His eyes narrowed for a moment as he raised his wand so that the tip was pressed under her jaw.

“I wonder, would you scream for me if you could?” He asked quietly, only audible to Hermione’s ears. His hand drifted lower, across her abdomen till he found the edge of her shirt. His cold fingers slid under to grope across her bare skin.

“I haven’t been with anyone since your mother.” He said over his shoulder, louder now so that his son could hear him. Draco was now swaying on his feet, but his eyes held Hermione’s over his father’s shoulder. Lucius’s nails dug into Hermione’s side and she winced in pain.

Draco’s steely eyes hardened at Hermione’s expression, dropping his gaze to his father’s hand against her skin. He could barely focus; between the pain in his chest and his lungs screaming for air, he struggled to form a coherent thought. Every movement, every twitch of a muscle sent shocks of pain throughout his body, ones that made him want to scream.

His vision blurred as he watched his father tear Hermione’s shirt, sliding his hand up the exposed skin on Hermione’s abdomen, seeing the movement of it under her shirt as he once again groped her. The force of the anger that ripped through him focused his vision and he met Hermione’s eyes again.

The golden brown of them held fear, fear and her own anger. Her mouth formed a single word as Lucius leaned forward and ran his lips over the skin under her ear. _Run._

Draco blinked and tried to take a deep breath, whatever obstruction in his lungs preventing the air in. No, he wasn’t going anywhere. His wand was useless, and Draco looked around the room, trying to clear the fog from his brain long enough to act.

“I think I’ll enjoy this.” Lucius said, slipping his hand from her breast to the waist of her jeans, his finger slipping under the waist band. “It has been so long.”

Hermione’s silent voice screamed in her head, wishing she could strangle him. Her skin burned where he touched her and she closed her eyes, trying to block everything else out. Draco was on the brink of death and there was nothing she could do as she squirmed under his father’s persistent hands.

She felt his hand cup her through the front of her jeans and her eyes flew open. She drew her hips as close as she could to the wall, trying with desperation to move away from his touch. He pulled his head back from her throat and chuckled, only pressing his hand forward with more insistence against her lower abdomen.

Their eyes met and Hermione drew in a sharp breath as Draco’s eyes stared back at her from Lucius’s face. They were exactly the same as his son’s, down to the slight hint of blue that rimmed his pupils. It was unnerving to see the eyes that she had grown to care about staring back from a different face.

Lucius slid his hand into the front of her jeans and groaned at the feel of her against his palm. “I’ll have to ignore your blood status, Granger. Just this once.” He said quietly, his face only inches from hers. Her thighs tightened against his invading fingers but he was persistent.

Hermione clenched her jaw in anger as she glared back at him, fear taking over every sensation she had. His fingers had just started to move against her, pressing against the apex of her thighs when they stopped suddenly. Hermione blinked in confusion as she watched the grey eyes that bore into hers flicker for a moment before Lucius let out a strangled groan.

Hermione’s heart raced as she felt his hand slip away from her, the sharp tip of the wand pressed against her throat eased and Lucius seemed to lean forward for a second. Feeling panicked, Hermione wiggled against her bonds as her would-be attacker leaned into her. The feel of his body pressing against hers lasted only for a moment before it was gone.

The room seemed to spin as she watched Lucius stumbled back, the wand dropping from his hand as his dark eyes continued to stare at her. Draco stood just behind his father, his breathing even more labored than before, his hand clutching a knife that dripped blood onto the dark wood floors.

Lucius let out a garbled breath, blood dripped from the corner of his mouth as it twisted into a final grin. The light left his eyes in the split second before he crumpled to the ground. Even if she had her voice, she would have been speechless, only able to stare at the fallen man.

Inhaling sharply, she saw the deep red stain spreading across the ground beneath him. Lucius Malfoy lay on the ground unmoving, a slight rattling coming from his blood spattered lips.

“I told you not to touch her.” Draco wheezed out, tearing his eyes from his father’s fallen form to look up at Hermione’s warm brown eyes. He bent slightly and grasped his father’s wand, barely moving it in Hermione’s direction.

The restraints holding her in place eased immediately and she stumbled when her feet hit the ground. The movement was enough to shock her out of her stupor and as soon as she could move, she rushed forward, ignoring Lucius’s fallen body and instead reaching out for Draco just as his knees gave out from under him.

Her mouth moved in silent, panicked words as she tried to slow his descent, falling with him to the ground. Her heart pounded in her chest and she looked frantically around the room for her wand. Not seeing it anywhere in sight, she moved the short distance to Lucius, the tight muscles in her arms burning slightly as she rolled the man onto his front.

The black robes were wet with blood as Hermione rummaged through them, trying to keep her hands from shaking as she touched him. Draco’s raspy breathing behind her spurred her movements and she let out a silent, triumphant yell as she felt the hard wood of her wand tucked into Lucius’s robe.

Draco’s eyes were closed when she turned back to him, the effort he was making to breath taking the entirety of his focus. With a wave of her wand, Hermione cast diagnostics over him, her mouth moving slightly as she read out the results. A bright blue light glowed in the region corresponding to his lungs and Hermione knew immediately what had been done to him.

The counter spell would have been more effective and immediate had she had her voice, but it worked well enough without it. She went though the complicated wand movements, all the while keeping her eye on the glowing diagnostic over Draco.

Her lips moved in silent incantation and after a few more precise movements, the blue light faded to yellow on the strands of magic in front of her. Hermione let out a breath of relief and looked down at her patient, finding the grey eyes open and staring back at her. _Breath,_ she mouthed.

Draco drew in his first full breath since being hit with the curse, feeling his thoughts clear as oxygen fed his brain. His eyes closed at the blissful feeling and he took several more breaths, each one banishing the residual pain from his muscles. Hermione watched his chest move up and down, relief seeping through her adrenaline infused blood.

Without hesitations she reached out and cupped his face between her hands, bringing his eyes back to hers. When his eyes focused on hers, she let out the breath she had been holding and leaned down, pressing her lips against his.

Draco blinked in surprise at her movements but as soon as her lips touched his, he closed his eyes and reached up to touch her. His hands gripped her tightly, almost reassuring himself that she was here, pulling her to him. The image of his father molesting her was still fresh in his mind and his grip tightened in her hair.

“I’m sorry,” He breathed out when she pulled away. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

His hand ran over her forehead and down to her cheek. “I’m sorry.” He said again, his eyes roaming her face as if imprinting it into his memory.

Her full lips moved as she tried to speak, Draco furrowed his brow for a moment at her silence before realizing that she was still mute. He sat up quickly, almost knocking her backwards.

“Shit. Sorry, give me your wand.” He said quickly. The spell could only be reversed with a verbal incantation, a small hint of irony for the silencing spell, ensuring that the victim could not be their own salvation. 

Hermione smiled slightly as she handed over her wand, feeling the tingling in her throat disappear once Draco said the counter-curse.

“Thank you.” She said, thoroughly enjoying the sound of her own voice again, and grateful that it was firm and not shaking like she had expected. “And there’s nothing to apologize for. We wouldn’t be in this situation if it hadn’t been for me.”

The admission hurt more than she cared to admit. For the smallest moment after Lucius had seen her helping Ginny, she had almost been excited. The mistake had presented them an opportunity to get out, and opportunity to escape Voldemort’s continued rule. They wouldn’t have been able to finish their mission, but in that tiny moment, their lives mattered more.

Draco pulled her to him again, inhaling deeply as he buried his face into her hair. Her warmth against him grounded him for a moment.. before his gaze fell over her shoulder to the body on the ground. The blood-stained body of his father.

The dead, grey eyes were still open and stared back at him. The site unnerved him and Draco felt his heart speed up. While he had never loved his father, seeing the man who had been a integral part of Draco’s life lying dead on the floor before him was unsettling.

As if sensing a change in his demeanor, Hermione pulled back and looked at him, immediately following the direction of his gaze. She felt nothing but hatred towards the dead body, the residual feeling of his hands on her body only fueling the flame. He would have raped her. She could see it in his eyes as his hands groped her body. To teach his son a lesson, Lucius Malfoy would have raped her, and then worse.

But then she remembered that he was still Draco’s father. And nothing could change that. Her eyes quickly went back to Draco. “Your father, Draco I’m so sorry.”

He looked up at her in surprise, her apology unexpected. Shaking his head he clutched her waist tighter in his hands. “No. He hasn’t been my father in a very long time, if he ever was.”

She was still looking down at him when he met her eyes. Pushing himself up off the floor, he helped her up as well, still feeling somewhat weak after the ordeal. Hermione steadied him when he stood, her hands gripping his.

“Are you okay?” She asked, her forehead furrowed with concern as he paled around the mouth.

He nodded, taking a few deep breaths to steady himself. “Are you?” He repeated back to her, meeting her eyes again. He dropped his hand to finger the tear in her shirt and Hermione inhaled sharply, reminded immediately of Lucius’s fingers on her.

She searched his eyes for a moment before nodding. “I’m fine.”

It was a lie. Nothing about what had happened tonight was fine, including her. Draco’s father was dead. He was dead and his son had murdered him. It didn’t matter if she was fine, it didn’t matter how she felt. Draco had just had to kill him father to protect her. She didn’t matter in this moment.

The realization was like an electric shock and she felt the dam of emotions overflow within her, emotions for him.

“Draco…” She said softly, trying to keep the emotions from spilling into her voice. She couldn’t say anything else. Instead, she lifted a hand to cup his cheek. “Draco.”

It took a moment for his features to thaw, and he closed his eyes briefly, letting the reality of what he had done sink in. The warmth of her hand on his cheek grounded him as brief memories of his father growing up overwhelmed him. Lucius Malfoy had never been the ideal father, but he was still the only father Draco had had.

Taking a deep breath, his eyes opened, and he reached up to pull her hand from his cheek. “We need to get back to the others. If Lucius hadn’t told anyone then we need to make sure our absence isn’t noticed.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed in concern, but she nodded. She understood that their lives were on the line, their future uncertain. It didn't mean that she felt any less for him at this moment, or that the price he had paid was any less. But right now wasn't the time to process what they had been through. Right now they had to play their part. It was just a means to an end. 

As if on signal, they both turned to look at the body only feet from them. The silence of the library was overwhelming, and it felt like the ghosts of Malfoy Manor were judging them in tandem.

So I found a photo of a good representation of Hermione's alter ego. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ding, dong, Lucius is dead!  
> Part of me wanted to redeem him in the end but I think he was past redemption in the world I built in my head. Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and I'm excited about the way this is going. Dramione intensifies soon :)


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a long one, hopefully you don't mind ;)   
> And just to reiterate, I own none of the art I use at the end. Once the story is finished, I'll share a link to my full pinterest board if anyone is interested.

Draco moved first, Hermione saw the shift in his features as he stepped over, staring down at his father’s dead body. It was the same expression that she had come to associate with their time in the cave. One that in this moment held an odd sort of comfort as it reminded her that what had happened tonight was war.

Draco looked at his father for only a moment before bending down to grab the man’s arm, trying to ignore the warm feeling of fresh blood on his hand.

“Grab his other arm.” He said, his voice calm and collected.

Confused, Hermione glanced between Draco and the body he held. What were they supposed to do with Lucius’s body? Draco gave her a raised brow look at her hesitations. Trying to push every emotion welling up in her behind the brick wall in her mind, Hermione grabbed Lucius’s other arm before meeting Draco’s grey eyes.

“Now what?” She asked, trying to match his calm demeanor though her thoughts were screaming at her to run to Grimmauld Place as fast as she could. 

Draco’s brows furrowed. It was a good question. Now what?

Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought that this is where his life would lead him. His aspirations throughout Hogwarts never included joining a regime of wizards hell bent on destroying the wizarding world. Naively he had thought that his parents would protect him from such a fate.

Instead, he had considered many different careers; a banker, ministry worker, healer, ironically an auror. There were nights that he would stay up late in his bed in the Sytherin dormitories, pouring over books of dragon tamers and adventurers, imaging that one day it would be his turn.

His parents had many opinions on what they thought would be a suitable career for him. Lucius was a strong proponent of Draco working at Gringotts or even the French wizarding bank, believing that his financial pursuits would continue on the Malfoy’s reputation as elitists.

Narcissa on the other hand, had wanted Draco to pursue a gentler future, hoping that he would find himself working in an isolated town far from his father. Far from where the name Malfoy meant that he was hated and feared.

But instead of those long anticipated dreams, he was here, thoughts racing with a plan to explain his father’s dead body and save his. And not only his life, but in a turn of events that no one ever would have predicted, he needed to save Hermione Granger’s life as well.

Hermione Granger who had been a pain in his side since the moment she first raised her hand in potions like the little know-it-all that she was. Hermione Granger who had been the only person who had ever hit him. Hermione Granger who, terrifying enough, was someone that Draco knew he would protect with his life.

Blinking several times, he clenched his jaw and looked back down at his blood tinged hands. “Just do as I say.”

***

The noise in the cave died out immediately as Hermione and Draco arrived, both holding Lucius up between them. Blood tinged both of their skin and was streaked through Draco’s hair. A fair amount of soot was also present on the both of them, all part of the elaborate disguise.

The orphanage was gone. They knew that from the last few moments they had stood on the top floor before it collapsed. They also knew that they had gone missing directly after the explosion for what was now going on a half hour. And now not only did they have their absence to explain, but also the dead man between them.

As expected, Hermione had vehemently disagreed with his plan. She had begged for them to just run to the Order, seek asylum and fight against Voldemort from there. It was the only way they would be safe, she had argued.

But Draco wasn’t going to run. He had lost too much at this point to scurry away like a dog with it’s tail tucked between its legs. His school, his home, his family, had all been taken from him because of a single man. And he wasn’t about to let that man take anything else. No matter the cost.

Voldemort watched them with a stone face as they lay Lucius’s body at his feet. Hermione stepped back immediately, trying to keep her breath even though her pounding heart begged for oxygen. She was fully prepared to die tonight. Understanding was not among Voldemort’s better qualities.

Draco stayed on his knees next to his father’s body, playing his part of the grieving son perfectly.

“We found him on the top floor of the building, my Lord.” Hermione said, letting the true waver of nerves falter into her speech. “I did everything I could, but he was too far gone. I’m so sorry.”

Her hand shook slightly as she tucked black hair behind her ears, never letting her gaze fall from the red eyes of Voldemort. She anticipated her mind being invaded any second, holding the last images of the orphanage steady in her mind. Lucius was a ranking council member and any death at that level could be considered suspicious and would need to be confirmed. But the violation never came.

Instead, Voldemort placed his head on the top of Draco’s blood-stained hair and closed his eyes. There wasn’t even a flinch from Draco as the sickly feeling of Voldemort’s conscious slipping into his thoughts overwhelmed him. He had expected this. It was his thoughts Voldemort would be interested in, his pain and horror for his father’s death.

Hermione’s thoughts would be too clinical, Draco had considered back in the library. The Dark Lord fed off people’s suffering, and Hermione would have no reason to feel anything for her estranged father-in-law, not like Draco would. He relished in the small comfort that he wouldn’t have to rely on her occlumency skills to get them out of this.

Hermione’s fingers twitched as she resisted the urge to reach out for Draco, to bat the pale hand from its grip on the blond hair. The protectiveness she felt was surprising and she dug her nails into her palm, letting the sharp pain ground her.

The few people left in the cave were silent as they watched the scene in front of them. It was a small mercy that most of the followers had decided to tend to their defeat elsewhere. No one would want to be around Voldemort tonight as the place where he grew up, no matter how vile, was destroyed.

Finally, Voldemort seemed to find what he was looking for as his eyes flashed red as they opened and his hand slipped down to cup Draco’s chin.

“So little remorse for your father, Draco.” He crooned, the pale fingers tightening slightly. “How disappointing.”

Draco met Voldemort’s gaze without hesitation, something that seemed to anger Voldemort as his mouth formed into a sneer.

“No.” Voldemort continued, pushing Draco’s head away from him. “I don’t suppose you would hold much regard for the man who raised you. He never was an easy man to love was he Draco? Your mother knew that and yet she spent her last years worshipping him.”

The muscles in Draco’s jaw tightened and he pushed himself to his feet. Hermione could hear her heart beating in her ears in the otherwise silent cave. She wished they had fled when they had the chance.

“Lucius was my father in physicality only.” Draco said coldly. “Forgive me if the loss of him does not emotionally phase me.”

The sneer on Voldemort’s face hardened momentarily and his eyes flitted over Draco’s shoulder to rest on Hermione.

“And yet you are not without love, Draco. So what does phase you?” Voldemort’s eyes held Hermione’s blue gaze as his oily voice reached them. “Your wife perhaps?”

He had no sooner asked the question before his wand was up and pointing at Hermione. “ _Crucio_.”

Hermione didn’t even have time to react before the familiar, overwhelming pain overtook her. Her entire body tensed with the impact before she began to shake. There was nothing but the pain, nothing else to be aware of.

It was unlike anything she had ever felt before. With Bellatrix there was a motive behind the pain, a reason to endure, to suffer. She had protected her secret and her friends that night so long ago at the Manor. This time, it was worse. There was nothing she could do to end the pain, no secret to reveal to relief her suffering.

Draco took a quick step towards Hermione as the curse first hit her, barely catching her as her knees gave out and she fell to the ground. She didn’t scream, something he found no comfort in. Her breath came in hitched gasps, he noted as she began to shake in his arms.

“Stop!” Draco yelled out.

Voldemort was watching the couple with obvious glee. He had been itching to hurt someone since finding out about the cave and the orphanage. The death of his Lieutenant was excuse enough and Draco’s lack of emotional pain for his father only fueled the desire. Watching the boy now was nothing short of pleasurable.

Hermione stopped shaking as Voldemort removed the curse, raising his wand just slightly. He was still grinning down at the couple, meeting Draco’s angry eyes easily.

“Be careful, Draco. With love only comes pain.”

Immediately Draco was grateful for the weight of Hermione in his arms that kept him from lashing out. The pure hatred he felt for his master in this moment was something he hadn’t felt since the death of his mother. Voldemort’s red eyes finally left Draco’s and wandered over the small remaining crowd before turning and striding towards the tunnels leading to the antechambers.

Draco ignored the outbreak of whispers around them and looked down at Hermione. Her skin was so pale and her forehead was furrowed in residual pain as she blinked rapidly, the blue eyes of her disguise flashing. One of her hands clenched at the fabric covering Draco’s arm.

“You’re okay.” Draco said quietly, shifting her slightly so she was sitting up.

“Don’t feel okay.” She mumbled, shivering slightly with aftershocks of the curse.

Understanding all too well how she was feeling, Draco got to his feet, reaching down a hand to assist her. “We’re not done yet.”

Hermione tried to keep her knees locked so she wouldn’t collapse to the ground. She remembered how she felt after being tortured by Bellatrix, bones aching so badly that she had wanted to sleep for years. Instead, the trio had broken into Gringotts the next day and fought a major battle right after.

Draco kept an arm securely around her waist as he looked coldly around to the remaining Death Eaters. Front and center was Bellatrix, looking at Hermione with an odd expression on her face. It unnerved Draco to see his aunt so focused on her and he angled his body so that it partly obscured her view.

“My father will be buried in the family crypt should anyone wish to pay their respects.” He said simply, trying to remember the formality of his upbringing. Even with every instinct in him telling him to leave as fast as possible, even with Hermione leaning heavily into him, he had a role to play.

Bellatrix seemed to snap out of her daze as her black eyes rounded on Draco. “You insolent child. You think that you can stand there, proud as the peacocks on your lawn, knowing you let your father die!”

The rage coming from her was unfounded in Draco’s opinion, almost humorous in a way. Bellatrix had never cared for her sister’s husband, demeaning and degrading him every opportunity she got. He was nothing more than a stain on her family tree.

“As we said, Aunt,” Draco replied calmly. “My father was dead when we reached him after the blast. Where were you if you think you could have done better?”

Bellatrix’s thin upper lip curled but Draco didn’t react. He would not give her the satisfaction of an outburst.

“You stain your father’s memory. You and this whore are not worthy of the Malfoy name.” She spat.

Draco could see her hand twisting tightly around the wood of her wand and his hand itched to reach for his own, to end her once and for all like he had ended his father. “Seeing as you’ve never held it, you do not get to decide what is worthy of the Malfoy name.”

It had the desired effect. She let out a small scream of anger and took a step forward, only to be held back by her husband who reach out to grip her arm. Rodulphus Lestrange was a brave man for going against his wife. Forever in the background, forever in the shadow that Bellatrix’s love for Voldemort cast.

Bellatrix glared at her husband before wrenching her arm from his grasp. Turning back to Draco and Hermione, she narrowed her eyes at them. “I look forward to the day when the Dark Lord sees you for who you truly are and ends you. Both of you.”

Draco inclined his head, not hesitating to meet her black eyes. “Until then.”

Hermione almost wanted to laugh at the exchange. If the situation hadn’t been life or death, and if her muscles would just stop twitching from residual pain, she would have pondered the sort of debates that likely plagued the Black-Malfoy holiday gatherings. Muggle politics held nothing against the inter-family drama that must occur.

Draco’s grip around her waist tightened for a split second and then they were once again in the Manor. The abruptness of their travel made Hermione’s head spun and she groaned as her knees give out.

“Whoa, hey!” Draco felt her slip and tried to lower her gently to the ornate carpet on his bedroom floor. He couldn’t bare the thought of going back to the library now, or even anywhere on the first floor. Kildly had likely already returned everything to order but he couldn’t face it right now.

Hermione clutched at her head with both hands and leaned forward, trying to focus on the pattern of green and black before her eyes. Nausea made her mouth water and she pushed at Draco’s hands, the feeling of being touched was too much stimulation.

“Just take deep breaths.” Draco said, watching with concern as a hint of green colored the pale skin of her face. His hand slid to hers and he pulled off her ring, knowing without having to ask how much better she felt without the magic of her disguise surrounding her. The green tinge was still there as her features shifted back, but at least now it was her face.

Hermione clutched at his hand just as he started to pull away, holding it tightly in her own as she inhaled deeply. Being tortured via the Cruciatus Curse was like an out of body experience. The pain was so severe that all you wanted to do was pull into yourself, protect your mind as your body was being torn to pieces. Unfortunately, Hermione understood too well why cases like Neville Longbottom’s parents were so common.

When the torture is over, the sensation of returning to your body is almost more severe. Hermione remembered Draco passing out after being tortured and was immediately jealous of him. The thought struck her as odd and she let out a small laugh.

“What could possibly be funny right now?” Draco asked, staring down at her with incredulity. His tone was harder than he meant it and she glanced sideways at him.

The hand covering her mouth dropped away and Hermione let out a long breath as she sat up fully. “You got to pass out.”

Suddenly worried about brain damage, Draco furrowed his brows. “What?”

Her knees were starting to hurt from the hard floor beneath them but any movement brought a fresh wave of nausea. Her eyes though were fully alert and open now and Hermione tilted her head at him. “When you were tortured, you got to pass out.”

The confusion didn’t fade. “And?” He asked, wondering how quickly Potter and the Weasel would kill him if he delivered Hermione back to them in this condition. He would be lucky to make it past the hearth of the fireplace, he decided.

Hermione sighed and gave him a small smile, running her thumb over the back of his knuckles. “Just never thought I’d be jealous of Draco Malfoy.”

His dark blond brows lifted slightly in surprise and he let out a small laugh. Jealous? Of him? Oh how the tables had turned.

“Well now you know how it feels.” He replied evenly.

This surprised her. “You’re jealous of me?”

“Almost daily.” He answered easily, suddenly feeling how tired he was.

Still holding his hand, Hermione shifted so she was facing him, her other hand lifted to rest on his shoulder. The muscles in her hand still twitched but she ignored them. “Why?” She asked quietly.

Not caring what she saw on his face or in his eyes, Draco met her gaze openly. “Because you’re you.”

It didn’t answer her question and Hermione furrowed her brows, waiting for him to continue.

“Because you’re brilliant. Because you have friends that would die for you. Because you grew up with a family that adored you. Because you’ve never had to stare your future in the eye and realize that you’re on the losing side and there is nothing you can do about it.”

He let out a breath, lowering his gaze from her face as he ran his hand down her arm, gripping it tightly. The dark room was quiet for several moments before Hermione spoke. The memory of what had happened in the cave bright in her mind.

“Before, when Voldemort said you weren’t without love..” She trailed off as his eyes rose and met hers. “Draco, I-?”

The grip on her arm tightened for the briefest moment, cutting her off as he shook his head sharply. “It’s nothing. He hasn’t broken me yet. Anything still flourishing with their own conscious is a threat to him and he will use whatever means necessary to crush it.”

Hermione furrowed her brows and searched his eyes. She would give anything to be a natural occlumens at this moment. To dip into his thoughts and understand what was going on in his mind. For a moment she had thought that Voldemort had meant that Draco loved her. And for a moment, she wished it were true.

“Okay.” She said finally, dropping her hands from him and rose to her feet. He followed quickly and held out his hands, ready to steady her if she needed it. She gave him a small smile, appreciating the gesture.

“I’m okay, don’t worry. Not the first time I’ve been tortured, remember?”

He winced at her words and a rush of guilt swept over him. Both times she had been tortured were because of him. If he had just identified the trio when they were first brought in by snatchers so many years ago, he could have spared her the initial experience. Her screams from that night still echoed in his nightmares

Reading his expression, Hermione laughed softly. “Malfoy, we’re okay. Anything tha’ts happened up to this point is nothing compared to what we’ve done, what we’re going to do. You saw how angry he was tonight. It’s working, we’re going to kill Voldemort.”

Her words were so sure, so absolute, that it was hard to believe anything else. It was another thing to be jealous of with her, the certainty that things would be alright. He unfortunately did not hold that ability.

Hermione sighed, knowing that he didn’t believe her. The demons in his past had too great a hold on him for any such optimism. She wished she could erase it all, take away all the horror and pain that he had suffered that hardened his heart.

Taking a step back, she met his eyes again. “I’m going to bed. You’ll let me know if you need anything?”

He blinked and looked like he was going to say something before simply nodding. Giving him a small smile, Hermione turning and slipping out of his room. She closed the door behind her and leaned against the wall, closing her eyes as she tried to quiet her urges to turn around and go to him.

The Manor felt crushingly silent as she undressed in her bathroom several minutes later, wincing at the ache in her muscles as she pulled her shirt over her head.

Her galleon had informed her that Ginny had made it back at the Burrow with her portkey. While it didn’t ease the ache of worry in her mind, knowing that her friend was still alive provided some comfort that everything she and Draco had suffered was not for nothing. She would deal with Harry tomorrow, right now all she wanted was to wash the day down the drain.

The mirror above the sink showed skin that was littered with purple bruises and Hermione sighed as the heat from the shower beat down on her sore body. The pristine white tile below her ran pink as she scrubbed Ginny and Lucius’s blood from her hands. When she finally felt clean, she lowered her head and let the water beat down on her, wishing she could sleep here.

A noise behind her made her jump and she spun around, almost slipping on the wet tile as she swept water from her face. Draco stood just in front of her, as naked as she was though the steam from the shower obscured his features slightly. 

“Draco..?” Hermione asked, confused. He met her eyes and her heart broke at the pain she saw there. Reaching for him without hesitation, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he pressed his forehead to hers.

“I didn’t want to be alone, not now.” He said softly, closing his eyes as her warm body pressed against his chilled one.

He had stood rooted to the floor after she left his room, the memory of murdering his father taking over as soon as she disappeared from site. He had reached the point of hyperventilating before he fled what had once been a safe space, searching out the comfort that only she could provide at this moment.

“I’m sorry.” He said, sliding his hands around her back to grip her tightly, barely registering the feel of her wet skin under his hands.

“No.” Hermione said, pushing up on her toes to press her lips against his. He tasted salty with sweat and tears that he must have shed just moments before looking for her. Cupping his face, she felt her heart melt as he leaned into her, kissing her back softly.

It was nothing like the other kisses they had shared. Those had been urgent, intense, many times serving to prove a point or convey a message. The way that their lips moved together in this moment was pure comfort. They held each other tightly as the stress and pain melted away in the surrounding steam.

Draco’s hand tightened on her waist and pulled her flush against him, her wet skin sliding against his as the shower continued to run behind her. Without warning, he took a step forward, bringing her with him until they were both standing under the water.

Hermione pulled away to look at him, his normally clear eyes slightly red with fatigue and tears. Reaching behind her, she pulled his hands from her waist and held them in front of her, rubbing at the skin to help the water wash away the blood.

Neither of them spoke as Hermione helped Draco wash, scrubbing the dried blood from his blond hair. She watched as he leaned his head under the spray of water, watched the water droplets drip down the tense muscles of his back as he closed his eyes.

Before she could stop herself, Hermione reached forward and wrapped her arms around his waist, leaning her forehead against his now warm back as she pressed her lips to his skin. He stiffened for the briefest moment before relaxing against her, raising one hand to rest over hers.

The softness of her breasts pressed against his back and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the throbbing ache of his resulting erection. This wasn’t why he had sought her out. Simply being in her presence was enough to banish the horrors, he didn’t want to use her like this.

As if she read his mind, Hermione ran a hand over the plane of his abdomen, letting her fingers brush softly over his sex. ”I need you.” She murmured against the skin of his back. “And you need me.”

Her words were enough to ignite every fire that wasn’t already lit within him. Turning in her arms, Draco crushed her to him, dropping his head to claim her lips once again. She melted against him immediately and felt her own fire light.

Sensing her submission, Draco groaned against her lips and let his hands slide down to her hips to pull her against him, pressing the evidence of his need against her. She responded urgently, winding her fingers into his hair as she slid her tongue over his bottom lip. They couldn’t fight each other’s demons, but they could fill this need.

It wasn’t the urgency of their first time together, this was steady and sure, moving together like a dance under the steaming water. Hermione gasped as Draco turned so her back was pressed against the cool tile of the shower, then groaned as he dropped to his knees in front of her.

The position was intimate and if her cheeks hadn’t already been flushed from the heat of the shower, Hermione would have blushed. Leaning forward, Draco pressed his lips just below her navel, his grey eyes flashing up to look at her.

She was beautiful, he thought fleetingly. Her eyes were squeezed shut and her head rested back against the shower wall, hair dangled wet down her back. The soft hills of her breasts rose and fell with every breath and Draco ached to taste them, to lick every water droplet off her perfect skin.

He let his tongue slide across the skin of her abdomen, smiling slightly when her legs trembled as he moved lower. She inhaled sharply when his lips closed around her, then squeaked in surprise when he hitched up her leg to drape it over his shoulder, opening her up for him. Using his shoulder for balance, Hermione steadied herself and looked down at the top of his blond head. 

It was one place where he would never be outperformed, Draco thought smugly as he flicked his tongue over her. His large hands gripped her buttocks as he pressed her hips closer to his face, sucking on the small bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs.

Her hips moved of their own accord as they shifted to push against his tongue, seeking further sensation. The feeling was intoxicating and he ran his tongue down her slit, causing her to shudder.

“Draco..” She breathed out, heart pounding in her ears. The tightness in her lower belly was almost painful.

His mouth left her briefly as he smoothed a hand down her leg. The other slid around to her front and Hermione gasped as she felt a finger probe at her entrance.

“Relax, Granger.” Draco said, his voice grounding as he leaned forward to press his lips against her again. “I’ve got you.”

He moved his tongue slowly as he slipped his finger inside, the slick muscles clenching around him at the intrusion. The feel of her made him want to stand and impale her without a second’s hesitation, and his cock twitched at the thought. Hermione’s breath came in halted gasps as another finger entered her, moving in and out as he sucked her clit. It he hadn’t been supporting her, she would have melted to the floor. 

His hand moved faster, and Draco felt her start to tremble against him, knowing that she was coming undone. He crooked his fingers within her and with a final swipe of his tongue, Hermione cried out. Her hips jerked in his hands as the waves of her orgasm crashed over her, her fingers digging painfully into his hair.

When her body stopped clenching around him, Draco slipped his fingers from her. Pushing the unruly strands from his forehead, he rose to his feet and cupped her face, enjoying her dazed expression before kissing her. 

She could taste herself on his lips as he kissed her, biting her bottom lip between his teeth. Pulling back, Hermione smiled softly and placed her hands on his hips. “That was…” Her mouth quirked as she fought to find the right word.

“Magical?” Draco said and leaned down to press his lips to her throat, wanting to taste every inch of her.

She made a sound of agreement and sighed, reaching down to close her small hand around him. He jerked at her touch but then pressed his hips forward, groaning against her throat as she stroked him. Aided by the wetness of the shower, she slid her fingers along his length. Draco resisted the urge to thrust against her, instead moving his mouth back to hers.

He was close, could feel the pressure build within him at each stroke of her hand.

“Stop.” He panted, pulling back from her. “Not yet.”

She nodded and raised up on her toes to kiss him, not missing a beat as she lifted a leg to wrap around his hips, allowing his hard length to slid between her folds. Hermione moaned at the contact, moving her hips along him. She was slippery, both from the shower and Draco’s earlier ministrations.

With a quick movement, Draco spun her around, her hand immediately reaching out to steady herself against the shower wall. Hermione glanced over her shoulder and watched as Draco leaned forward to press a kiss against her shoulder, his grey eyes holding hers.

One of his feet nudged at hers, widening her stance as she arched her back, feeling the tip of him probe at her entrance. His hands on her hips steadied her and with a single hard thrust, he was buried within her. She tensed under his hands and it took everything in him not to pound into her tight heat, to use her until he forgot his own cursed name.

Hermione leaned her forehead against the shower tiles, pressing her hips back to Draco as he started to move in and out of her. With the heat of the shower and the wetness on their skin, it felt like she was on a cloud, grounded only by the tight grip of Draco’s hands on her hips and the hard fullness of him moving inside her.

He moved slowly against her, allowing himself to feel the sweet grip around his cock as he thrust into her. The skin of her back was smooth but marred with bruises, soft purple splotches against the pale skin. He reached out to trace a finger around one of the marks and felt her shiver under his touch. He hated the site of the bruise, but also loved how strong she was, how resilient.

Leaning forward he caught her chin in his hand and turned her head, covering her mouth with his as he ground his hips against hers. It was passionate and slow, but burning and intense at the same time. The combination made Hermione’s head spin and she sighed against Draco’s lips.

The soft snap of their hips meeting echoed off the tile walls as Draco cupped her breast, stroking a thumb across her hardened nipple. The added stimulation fueled the embers within her and with each thrust, Hermione felt herself get closer to release.

Deep down she knew that this was wrong. Draco had killed his father today. She had been tortured. Turning to each other out of desperation was wrong. She had regretted their moment of weakness in Ireland ever since they had returned, knowing that it would only complicate things between them. Their mission was too dangerous to add in a personal note, and yet here they were.

Sensing that her mind had wandered, Draco leaned forward and bit down gently on her shoulder, snapping her attention back to the present. Reaching back, she gripped his hip, acknowledging him as she pressed back.

“Hermione…” He groaned, his lips wandering across her shoulders making her shiver. Her name coming from his lips had almost the same effect on her as his fingers moving down her abdomen to circle her clit. It was like a shock that went directly through her and she didn’t take the time to ponder how affected she was by it.

Instead, she pulled away and turned in his arms, meeting his eyes directly. The grey warmed slightly as he raised a hand to her cheek, running his thumb across her cheekbone. Draco’s chest rose and fell with each breath he took, and Hermione saw the flutter of a pulse at his throat.

Under the steaming water, naked under his wandering hands, Hermione felt oddly vulnerable. Her own heart beat against her ribs and she moved forward, pressing her body against his once again. She sought protection in his arms, protection from the world around them, protection from her own emotions.

“Take me.” She whispered, pressing her lips softly against his as she cupped his face. “Take me, Draco.”

He groaned against her mouth and suddenly she was lifted in his arms, back against the hard tile as he sheathed himself within her. He swallowed her gasp and pounded into her, not caring that he was bruising her hips with his grip. And he took her, hard and fast, grunting as his hips snapped against hers.

Knowing she was about to come, Hermione gripped his face in her hands, meeting his grey eyes once again. He held her gaze as she fell over the edge, held her eyes as her walls tightened and pulsed around him. Her lips were parted and she drew in a halted breath, quivering as he continued to thrust into her.

Closing his eyes, he allowed himself to use her. He pounded into her as hard as he could, taking everything that he needed in that moment and gripping her soft flesh. With a final thrust, he gasped and leaned forward, pressing her hard against the wall as he let go.

The bathroom was silent other than the sound of the water beating the shower floor. It was almost peaceful, like being in a bubble. Hermione clutched Draco to her as he buried his face against the wet skin of her neck. Her legs ached and she knew there would be bruises from where his fingers dug into her hips. But she wasn’t thinking about Lucius’s hands on her.

Sighing, Hermione pressed her lips against his temple and unwound her legs from his hips. Draco eased his grip and lowered her back to the floor, sliding his hands from her when she was back on her feet. He felt spent, physically and emotionally drained.

“I don’t think I can pretend _that_ didn’t happen.” Hermione said, giving him a slight smile. They were past the point of pretending.

Draco chuckled and pulled her to him, kissing her forehead before resting his chin atop her head. Hermione relaxed into him, very aware of their nakedness pressed together. She could have almost fallen asleep there but then she felt his chest began to shake against her cheek.

He was crying, Hermione realized, her eyes opening immediately. It seemed like his whole body was trembling as he drew in shaky breathes against her hair. Over the years she had been a crying shoulder for many people; Harry, Ron, Ginny, Luna… well everyone. But in this moment, she didn’t know what to do.

Settling for what felt right, Hermione pulled back and looked at him. He was crying, immediately trying to dash away evidence of his tears. She caught his hands as they swiped at his cheeks, lowered them gently to his side. Reaching up again she cupped his face in her hands, using her thumbs to remove the tracks of wetness.

Draco looked down at her. The deep despairing sadness in his eyes crushed Hermione and her forehead creased. Pushing up on her toes, she gently pressed her lips to his, wishing she could absorb his sadness.

Drawing apart, Draco drew in a shaky breath, resting his hands gently on her hips as he leaned his forehead against hers.

“I killed my father.” He said quietly, closing his eyes against the image of the knife slipping into Lucius’s back.

Hermione nodded. “I know. Draco, and I’m so sorry.” It was all she could say. Even though she had said it multiple times that evening, it felt like she could say it for the rest of her life and it wouldn’t be enough.

He shook his head and pulled away form her. “I’m not.” His voice was firm, no longer wavering with emotion.

“Draco…” She moved the wet hair off his forehead.

“No. I’m not. I didn’t lie about what I said earlier, Lucius has never been a father to me. He has been manipulating my existence since I was born. Nothing was ever good enough for him, not my mother and certainly not me.” He slid a hand up to her neck. “I’ve done a lot of horrible things in my life, many of them to you. But if killing my father finally makes me a monster that he was training me to be-“

“It doesn’t.” Hermione interrupted him. “He would have hurt me. You’re not a monster for protecting me from that. ”

His eyes dropped for a moment, staring as if he was looking right through her. He had seen his father hurting people his entire life. Lucius had regularly beat and cheated on Narcissa, controlling every aspect of her life while forcing her to belief that his actions were a result of her ability as a wife. The abuse had been a regular part of Draco’s life and a part of him hoped that he had done his mother justice by finally finding the strength to stand up to his father.

Not even the stony features could disguise the ripple of anger that flashed across Draco’s face. But he stayed silent.

Reaching around him, Hermione turned the water off, the residual drip echoing off the bathroom walls. Immediately the steam began to clear, and Hermione stood to kiss Draco again. She itched to bombard him with questions about his past, about his family, but she could wait.

“We both need sleep.” She said, reaching for a towel that hung on the heated rack outside the glass enclosure of the shower. Handing one to him, she took another one for herself, wrapping it quickly around her as she stepped out onto the plush rug.

Draco nodded, drying his hair as he followed her. Back in the main room, he wrapped the towel around his hips and began to head towards the door.

“Where are you going?” Hermione asked, pausing just before she entered the wardrobe.

Draco looked at her with confusion, gesturing towards the bedroom door. “To bed? You’re tired.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “I am, and so are you. But I’d sleep better if you stayed.”

It wasn’t a question, wasn’t even a request and Draco appreciated that. He hadn’t wanted to leave her but wasn’t about to impose himself on her any more than he already had. She had not protested his appearance in the shower but he wasn’t about to invite himself to her bed.

Seeing his hesitations, Hermione glanced down. Maybe she had misread things. “I mean if you’d prefer not…”

Draco tilted his head at her, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards. He didn’t say anything, instead walked across the plush carpet to the opposite side of her bed. Hermione watched as he drew back the cream-colored bedding and, after summoning a pair of sleeping pants from his bedroom, slid between the sheets.

He made a show of settling into the pillows, giving her a pointed look once he was comfortable. Hermione laughed and shook her head, stepping into the wardrobe to dress. His eyes were closed when she came out again, braiding her still wet hair down her back.

Extinguishing the lights, Hermione slipped into the bed and sighed, settling against the delicious softness. In the darkness, she felt Draco shift towards her, the mattress dipping between them as he settled behind her. She pressed back against him as an arm snaked around her waist, holding her against his chest.

“Sweet dreams Granger.” Draco said, yawning widely as he pressed his nose into her hair.

Hermione smiled into the darkness; the sweet phrase more comforting now than it ever had been before. “Good night, Malfoy.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're backk! I'm so sorry for the delay. It genuinely frustrates me as a reader to have to wait forever for the next chapter but unfortunately life happens.  
> I'm genuinely curious as to what everyone is thinking about the story thus far? Anything that you wished would have been different or hope that is going to happen? I've got a general outline for the rest of the story but am more than happy to accommodate requests :)

Hermione felt him watching her before she even opened her eyes. It was oddly comforting to know that he had stayed the entire night and hadn’t left as soon as he felt better. He had fallen asleep almost immediately after crawling into bed with her and the warm weight of his chest pressed against her back should have been enough to lull her to sleep, but she remained awake for what felt like hours.

Thoughts casually drifted through her mind, memories of how Draco had been when they were teenagers compared to how he was now. Hermione almost wished that she had known him better in school, perhaps his path would have been different if he had different friends or had been sorted into a different house. Either way, she unfortunately would never know.

Then, thoughts of the future crept forward. Thoughts of what her future could be like with him, if they survived the war.

It was a fantasy, she had to remind herself at multiple points during the night. The thought of spending her nights wrapped in his arms like she was now, was more enticing then she cared to admit. As a planner, it was a process she seemed to go through with every person she started to develop feelings for. It happened with Ron while they had dated, and with Blaise during their brief escapades, and now with Draco. However it was disconcerting that picturing a life with Draco made her feel more excited than she had in a while.

Hermione refused to admit any actual feelings for him other than those that came with the respect of a coworker and a friend. Though one doesn’t normally have sex with coworkers or friends, she reminded herself. There wasn’t room to develop feelings during this war, especially not in the position they had found themselves in.

But when Hermione opened her eyes that morning and found Draco’s intense grey gaze on her, it was hard to ignore the fluttering sensation in the pit of her stomach. Blinking, she smiled slightly at him and nestled deeper into her pillow.

“Morning.” She said, stretching her arms under the pillow. The movement made her sore muscles ache, residual pain from being tortured, she thought, remembering how she felt waking up in Shell Cottage. 

The corner of his mouth twitched as her eyes met his again, thankfully failing to see the moment of pain she had experienced.

“What?” She asked, relaxing against the comfort of the mattress.

Squinting his eyes like he was examining her, Draco tried to keep a smile off his face. “You know in school I always wondered how your hair looked in the morning.”

She instinctively reached for her curls before huffing and lightly nudging his shoulder with hers, drawing a true smile from him, one of the few she had seen from him during their months of working together. Ignoring the veiled insult in his statement, she bit her bottom lip and looked up at him from under her lashes.

“You wondered how I looked in the morning?”

The look that passed over his face made her laugh and she grinned as he rolled his eyes at her. “It may be a surprise to you Granger, but teenage boys often image how their classmates would look like in certain compromising positions.”

She feigned a look of innocence. “Really? All of your classmates? Even Harry and Ron?”

That earned her a hard look which only had her grinning wider. “Trust me, they aren’t nearly as attractive as I am. In case you had wondered.”

The corner of his lips twitched yet again. “And how would you know what Potter looks like in the morning? The Weasel I can gather, but unless you lived up to the Slytherin rumors, I doubt you’ve been in a relationship with both of them.”

Her brows shot up in surprise. “Did you just call me a whore Malfoy?”

This time it was his turn to feign innocence. “Not at all. Unless of course the rumors a _re_ true?”

“Well they’re not.” She said shortly, propping up on her elbow and drawing the sheet closer to her naked body. “It’s hard not to notice how people look first thing in the morning when you’re spending months sleeping across a tent from them. Harry’s hair is worse than yours.” She purposefully glanced upwards at the blonde locks.

Draco resisted the vain urge to smooth down his hair and instead fell back against the pillows, looking up at the light blue canopy that covered her bed. He had been slightly confused at the sight when he had first woken up, had taken a moment to remember whose bed he was in. The peaceful color was so different than the own dark, brooding green of his own canopied bed. It was like waking up in a fairy tale, certainly how sleeping beauty must have felt.

“What were you all doing during that year anyways?” He asked. It had always been something he had been curious about. Potter and company’s absence during their seventh year at Hogwarts had been all anyone had talked about until their sudden appearance just before that final battle. Draco had experienced the curiosity on two ends, both from the student’s standpoint, but also as a Death Eater who, along with the rest of Voldemort’s ranks, was ctasked with hunting them down. 

Hermione regarded him, taking his moment of distraction to let her gaze wander down the pale skin of his chest. She wasn’t ashamed to admit that there had also been times at Hogwart’s when she had wondered what Malfoy looked like under his smug attire.

“We were looking for Horcruxes. Not to mention avoiding being killed by your crazy band of pals.” He looked over at her and she smiled. “What do you think would have happened if we had stayed at Hogwarts that year? They would have certainly killed Harry without a second thought. And Godric knows what they had already done to the D.A. let alone Harry Potter’s best friends. We survived, or at least tried to.”

When he didn’t say anything, Hermione shifted closer and rolled to her stomach to look down at him. “What did you do that year?”

He snorted but then sighed, a dark look passing over his eyes before it was quickly veiled. He wished he could block out the memories that such a simple question brought forth. “I survived.” He repeated her words back to her.

Hermione tilted her head at him, but he refused to meet her eyes. “At least I tried to. Being a known Death Eater when professors have a certain propensity to torture students isn’t exactly an ideal educational environment.”

“They tortured you?” Hermione asked in surprise. As adults at war, the thought of being hurt or tortured wasn’t that unsettling, but she found that the image of seventeen-year-old Draco being tortured was unnerving.

He glanced over at her, sensing the sympathy in her voice and immediately hating himself for it. “No Granger, I was the one doing the torturing.” He saw the shift in her features and shook his head before returning his gaze to the canopy overhead. “During fifth year I was proud to be the head of the inquisitorial squad. It finally felt like I was in my rightful place at Hogwarts and even the thought of hunting down my peers wasn’t enough of a deterrent. I wanted to be a Death Eater so badly, to finally get the chance to make my father proud.”

“I remember.” Hermione said quietly, keeping her tone level, not wanting to portray any of her emotions associated with that year.

“Yeah, well that all changed that next summer. Potter must have told you, but I was tasked with eliminating Professor Dumbledore.” Hermione nodded, finding the word ‘eliminating’ emotionless. “The moment that I was given that assignment I realized how serious this was. It was more than just tormenting kids at school for fun and glory. For some reason I think I had been naïve enough until that point to think that I would have a somewhat normal life after Hogwarts, even with my Death Eater aspirations.”

“Then after I failed to kill Dumbledore, I genuinely thought that I was going to die. You’ve felt what the Dark Lord’s disappointment is like. If Snape hadn’t stepped in when he did to finish the job… I know for certain he would have killed me, or had someone else do it.”

Under the calm, cool tone of his voice, Hermione heard a soft edge of pain and couldn’t even imagine how he must have felt. A sixteen-year-old boy, charged with murdering his teacher for fear of his own life. And then to fail at that task and having to face the wrath of the deadliest wizard the world has ever seen… She knew how terrifying Voldemort was when he was angry, had watched over the past months as he tortured his followers over even the slightest mishap. Her heart broke for teenage Draco.

“You know it was all part of Dumbledore’s plan, right?” Hermione asked, running her finger lightly along the edge of her pillow. “He knew that you were meant to kill him, had planned for Snape to take your place from the beginning.”

The sharp look Draco shot her way was her answer and Hermione nodded. “Harry saw Snape’s memories after he died. They had planned the entire year for Snape to be the one to kill Dumbledore. He was already dying from a curse that was on one of the horcruxes. One could say it was fate you were tasked to kill him.”

“Fate?” Draco asked with a scoff, scrubbing his hand over his eyes with the revelation that not only had he failed in his original task, no one actually believed that he would have been able to accomplish it in the first place. “Sure. Glad fate enjoys continuously screwing me over.”

Hermione winced. “I didn’t mean it like that. I can’t imagine how you must have felt, but Harry would have been dead, and we would have all been lost if you had been the one to kill Dumbledore. Plus you would have been a murder at age sixteen, that’s hard enough to recover from.”

His hand didn’t move from his eyes. “But now I’m a murder at twenty-five, how is that any better?”

It wasn’t, she thought, but kept it to herself. Taking someone’s life left marks on the soul, something Hermione knew only too well. After a moment of hesitations, she took a deep breath. “I was a murderer at twenty. So you beat me by five years.”

As she had expected, his arm lifted and he turned his head to meet her eyes, the surprise in them blatantly evident. “You killed someone? After the high-and-mighty speech you gave me four months ago about taking lives, you’re telling me now that you’ve killed someone?”

“And I’m sorry if what I said was hurtful.” Hermione said, somewhat forcefully as he continued to stare at her. “It’s not as if I knew you weren’t the horrible person we had all thought you were for the past eight years. The rumors we had heard made you out to be the Dark Lord’s personal executioner. How was I to know?”

He continued to stare at her, waiting for the answer to his original questions.

Hermione sighed, “Yes, I killed someone.”

Draco’s face shift at the confirmation, the new revelation was simply filed away neatly with all of the other information he had gathered about her since their reunion in the cave. If her assumptions had been that he was a monster, then his assumptions about her were the exact opposite. Perfect Hermione Granger, almost virginal in her superiority and goodliness. To hear that she had stained her soul just as he had, was uncomfortably comforting.

“Who?”

The question was simple and one that Hermione had expected, thought it didn’t make it any easier to answer.

“It was a Death Eater.” She said, shrugging slightly as she looked down, running the soft linen of the pillowcase between her fingers. “I don’t actually know his name. He was French though, called me _la putain_ before he died.”

Draco paused, thinking it odd that you could kill someone and not know anything more about them other than that they called you a whore. “Why?”

This time she met his eyes directly. Hermione wasn’t ashamed of her past. It was painful to think about, painful to know that even though she had taken an oath to preserve human life, she had been the cause of one to end.

“Why else? He tried to kill me.” She said simply. It had taken her years to convince herself that her act of self-defense had been justified, that there had been no other option in that moment. And there hadn’t.

“It was during one of the earlier battles,” The words fell almost mechanically from her lips. “You remember those? So many people died. There were nights where my shoes would be soaked with the amount of blood I had to wade through.” She took a deep breath, still feeling the ghostly sensation of wetness on her feet. “I think it was at a village outside of London, one of the larger muggle-born settlements. I was working triage through the camp, had just finished my training actually, I found a man lying on the ground and stupidly, I tried to help.”

Draco could picture it easily; the eager new healer, hell bent on saving everyone, helping the wrong person. It was much too similar to the scenario that had started them down this path actually. She obviously hadn’t learned much, and was he was briefly grateful that it was him that she tried to help, and not someone who would have happily disposed of her, or worse.

“He didn’t appreciate the assistance?” He asked, his tone dry.

Hermione snorted and glanced over at him. “Not exactly, or at least not from me. I didn’t see the Death Eater mask next to him until it was too late. He attacked me and I was so stunned that I dropped my wand. He was choking me when I finally found it again.”

Draco noticed that she had begun to unconsciously finger her neck as she spoke, and he reached over to pull her hand away. She met his eyes again, grateful for his presence. It had been years since she had told the story to anyone, reliving the moment only in solitude in her own thoughts. 

“It was self-defense.” He said, realizing too late that the words echoed the ones that she had spoken to him only hours earlier. They had both made decisions to protect themselves, decisions that had unfortunately cost another their life.

As if reading his thoughts, Hermione smiled sadly at him. “It doesn’t make it feel any better though does it?”

Wordlessly, Draco shook his head. They lay side by side in silence for a few minutes more, each reliving the memories of their worst moments privately.

Finally breaking the silence, Hermione sighed and started to sit up. “I need to go and check on Ginny, and yell at Harry.”

A flicker of humor crossed Draco’s grey eyes and he sat up with her, the blankets slipping down to sit in his lap. “Can I come? Watching you tear Potter a new one would be the highlight of my life.”

***

More than a few people stared as Draco Malfoy followed Hermione through the medic tent less than an hour later. A few whispered to each other as the known Death Eater walked openly down the aisle of wounded order members. It was not common knowledge that Draco was helping the order, or that Hermione was undercover with him. The story that had circulated about her absence was that she was receiving additional trauma training in France.

It was obvious where they were going as they walked through the tent. There was a small group of people huddled near the back corner of the tent, their Weasley relation evident by the locks of orange hair. Hermione couldn’t see past them to the bed but the fact that there were no evident tear was reassuring.

Mrs. Weasley was the first to see the newcomers and she leapt to her feet to envelope Hermione in a tight hug. The older witch let out a harsh sob as she clutched Hermione to her.

“Oh my dear girl,” She said softly into Hermione’s hair. “Thank you. Thank you.”

Hermione closed her eyes briefly, allowing the comfort that radiated off Mrs. Weasley to seep into her soul.

Mrs. Wealsey pulled back and held Hermione at arm’s length, cupping the girl’s cheek as small tears slid down the older woman’s wrinkled skin. Her lips quivered into a watery smile which Hermione tried to return. Looking over the woman’s shoulder, she tried to see towards the bed.

“How is she?” Hermione asked, her gaze clearly indicative of who she was asking about. By now the other Weasley’s had notice their arrival, and more than one of them were warily looking at the blond behind Hermione.

Mrs. Weasley looking over her shoulder to where her daughter lay, before drawing Hermione with her to the edge of Ginny’s bed. The young witch was slight under the dark blue blankets that draped over her. Her eyes were closed but a quick scan showed the rhythmic motion of her chest that Hermione noted as a physician.

Harry was seated next to the head of the bed, gripping Ginny’s hand tightly in his. Seeing Hermione, he immediately jumped up and went to hug his friend. But Hermione stopped him, holding up her hand as she gave him a sharp look.

“Don’t.” She said, her voice colder than she had thought it would be. Seeing Ginny in the hospital bed only brought her anger bubbling back to the surface. And knowing the consequences of what had happened at the orphanage the night before, only made it intensify that much more.

Hurt and confusion flashed across Harry’s face but he stopped his advance, looking as if he wanted to say something before stepping away. Hermione pushed past him to get to the side of the bed, ignoring the pain evident in the green eyes of her friend. She knew he must feel guilty for Ginny’s injury, but she was too angry with him to care about his feelings at the moment.

Instead she focused her attention on Ginny, quickly performing sets of vitals and diagnostics to ensure that her spell work from yesterday was holding and that Blaise had been able to fix the residual damage. She really was okay, Hermione found with a breath of relief. It was one thing to hear it from Harry in a message but another to see it with her own eyes.

Not knowing if the others had been told about the pregnancy yet, she discreetly checked on the status of the baby. A healthy green glow in her diagnostic answered all of her questions and Hermione pulled her magic back, dropping the spells from Ginny.

With one of her reasons for coming satisfied, she turned to the next. Whirling around she faced Harry, hoping he could see the anger in her eyes. He evidently did as he took a hesitant step back. Not willing to break her confidentiality with Ginny, Hermione tried to keep her tone even.

“Do they know?” She asked, knowing that Harry would understand exactly what she was talking about.

Still confused, Harry nodded slowly. “Yes. I told them as soon as we got back.”

Hermione nodded curtly. “Good.” And then she began. “Then what the bloody, fucking hell were you thinking Harry?”

She tried to restrain herself from full out yelling at him but the anger within her was too overwhelming to speak calmly. Harry was obviously taken aback at her reaction as he raised an instinctive hand up towards her. There wasn’t enough time in the world to make him forget about how volatile Hermione could be when she was angry.

The air around them was tense and the redheads behind them glanced between one another. Unseen by the others, George whispered something in Ron’s ear and the two exchanged a quick handshake. Draco stood near the edge of the group, watching with a slight humor as the famous Harry Potter cowered before his best friend.

When Harry didn’t answer her, Hermione raised her brows. “Well? She could have died Harry! You know that she can’t be fighting in her condition. We literally had that conversation less than twenty-four hours ago. How could you have let her go?”

Her hands were shaking with anger and she itched to pull her wand back out if only to have something to occupy them. Harry seemed to find his voice finally and swallowed forcefully.

“She wanted to go.” He said simply, as if this would explain everything.

Hermione scoffed and resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “She wanted to go.” She repeated, feeling quite exacerbated. “So if she wanted to jump off a cliff, you’d be alright with that?”

Anger flickered in his eyes and he clenched his jaw. “Obviously not. But it’s Ginny, when has she ever listened to what people have told her to do?” His own voice was edged with anger as he started to fight back.

“Maybe since it wasn’t just her life at stake anymore?” Hermione said incredulously. “Pregnancy messes with magic Harry, she may not have had the same control as she usually does. She may not have even been able to defend herself let alone fight.”

He obviously hadn’t considered this as he glanced down at the sleeping witch in the hospital bed. Hermione felt her resolve weaken momentarily as she felt a quick wave of sympathy seeing the guilt and pain in his eyes.

“Harry she was dying when I got to her. Would have died if I hadn’t been there.” Hermione said, her voice softening slightly as she dropped her gaze to watch the reassuring rise and fall of Ginny’s chest.

Harry didn’t say anything, just continued to look down at the woman he loved, the woman carrying his child, in a hospital bed. Hermione knew that not every decision in the war was Harry’s responsibility, nor did she expect it to be. And she was more than happy to conclude that at least half of the blame lay on Ginny’s shoulders, but given that the witch in question was currently unconscious, she couldn’t exactly lecture her.

“But you were there Hermione.” Harry said, turning back to her again and Hermione could still see some of the anger in his expression. He had never taken criticism well, had especially hated being lectured at.

“No, I wasn’t.” She exclaimed. “Not as me Harry. I was there with them, I wasn’t supposed to be helping the order. Which was exactly what you suggested when we first made this plan. I can’t be your fallback during these fights.”

Harry huffed and held up his hand in a gesture of exasperation. “It’s not like anything bad happened because of it Hermione! I agree that Ginny shouldn’t have been there, and it won’t happen again, but she is safe, we are all safe. No one knows that you helped us, Voldemort doesn’t know.”

His words hung in the silence around them. Hermione didn’t even need to look in Draco’s direction to see the pained expression that had flashed across his face. Unfortunately there was one thing that she didn’t like about Harry and it was that he never seemed to look out of his own bubble. His concern for his friends and loved ones was admirable, but as long as they were safe, there wasn’t much consideration for the rest of the world.

“Lucius Malfoy saw me helping her.” Hermione said, her voice quieter than it was before as she kept her eyes locked on Harry’s. Her friend’s expression shifted to one of surprised shock before growing pale as the blood left his cheeks.

“Voldemort knows about you?” He asked, stepping forward to grip Hermione’s upper arm. Hermione shook her head quickly least he whisk her away to some hidden corner of the world before the Dark Lord burst into the tent.

“No.”

Confused, Harry narrowed his eyes at her. “But how? Malfoy would have gone directly to his master if he knew someone in their ranks was a spy. He’s not in support of the Order is he?”

Hermione resisted the urge to let out a harsh laugh at the thought. Lucius Malfoy? An Order sympathizer? The sensation of his pale hands sliding down her body and tearing at her clothes was enough to quench the moment of humor.

“He’s dead.” She said simply.

A murmur went through the small group of Weasley’s near them, silent up until this point. Hermione was thankful that Ron had stayed out of the argument thus far. Normally he would have stepped in to take one of his best friend’s sides, but they weren’t teenagers anymore, and Hermione and Harry needed to handle their issues themselves.

Harry’s eyes searched her face and she could feel the grip of his fingers tightening on her arm. “Did you..?” He didn’t finish the question, didn’t need to.

Again, Hermione shook her head.

“Then who--?” Again he didn’t finish the question. Realization swept over his face as he spun his head to look at the man that no one else had acknowledged since their arrival. Draco’s face was blank as he met Harry’s eyes dead on.

The hand on her arm dropped as Harry turned fully to face Draco, his brows furrowed as he struggled to find words.

“Malfoy, I’m… I’m sorry... I... Your father…” A corner of Draco’s mouth twitched minutely, and Hermione knew that he was finding the picture of the great Harry Potter at a loss for words amusing.

Given the history between the two, Hermione expected some sort of snarky comment to come from Draco. Even getting to know him better over the past few months could not erase all of the interactions she had witnessed between him and Harry in school.

Instead, after a moment, Draco shook his head and took a deep breath in. “Don’t worry about it, Potter. My father was a terrible man, did terrible things.” His eyes met Hermione’s momentarily. “I think we can both agree that I did the world a favor.”

Harry’s expression didn’t shift, his eyes stayed on Draco’s face. Hermione watched the internal struggle in her friend, knowing that he was sympathetic enough to want to provide some sort of comfort to Draco, but their past history kept him from doing so.

“Did he tell anyone about Hermione before you… before he died?” Harry asked finally.

Draco shook his head. “No. If he had, Granger and I would already be dead. And as our bodies are not dismembered across the Manor’s lawn, I would assume that we’re safe. For now.”

Harry’s eyes flicked back to Hermione briefly as if just realizing the severity of the consequences to her choice to help Ginny, how much she had actually risked. As much as Hermione hated everything that had happened to her and Draco in the past two days, she hoped that it would be enough so that Harry got it through his thick skull, Ginny too.

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy.” A voice spoke from the Weasley group and the three of them turned to see Mrs. Weasley, standing a foot in front of everyone else, her hand extended out to Draco. “I’m not sure it’s appropriate to thank someone for killing another person, but what you did surely saved Hermione’s life. So thank you.”

A murmur of agreement sounded from the redheads standing behind her, Ron’s cheeks berry pink from having to thank his childhood bully.

Unsure of how to react, Draco looked over to Hermione who met his eyes directly before inclining her head in Mrs. Weasley’s direction. Trying not to look annoyed at her, Draco turned to the matriarch and took her outstretched hand, looking as awkward as possible as he simple held it.

Mrs. Weasley gave him a soft smile before pulling him to her in a hug. The scene was almost comical, Draco stooped over the short form of Mrs. Weasley, His hands held awkwardly out at his side as if he forgot they existed. The redhead pulled back and gave him a beaming smile, patting his now pink stained cheeks as she had Hermione’s.

“I are truly grateful dear,” She said. “But ever so sorry about your father.”

Draco nodded curtly. “Thank you.” He stepped away from her and fidgeted. Hermione had never seen him fidget and decided that he had had enough scrutiny for one day.

“So,” She spoke, calling the attention back to her and off of Draco. Turning to look at Harry, she met his eyes directly. “Ginny is pregnant Harry. She is not invincible, none of us are. But that baby deserves to see that world that his parents are fighting for, and he won’t be able to do that if he’s dead.”

Harry’s face went blank for a second before he swallowed hard. “He?” He asked quietly with a slight tremor in his voice.

Realizing her slip, Hermione gasped and clapped a hand over her mouth. The diagnostics had revealed the baby’s gender, but she knew that it was poor healer form to reveal it without express parent permission.

“Oh, Harry I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you.” She said, stepping forward as she reached for her friend. She had prided herself with not having made a mistake in her healing practice, and having just made her first one, she felt terrible.

Harry heard the urgency in her voice and took her hand, his face splitting into a large grin. “A boy. Hermione, I’m having a son!” The joy that filled his voice was evident and it cut through her anguish at having broken confidentiality. Hermione gave him a hesitant grin.

“Yes, Harry you are.” She knew that he would have been pleased with any gender, but his excitement about his future baby was infectious.

“A boy.” Harry repeated, his expression one of dazed happiness. He let out a short laugh before pulling Hermione to him in a hug, followed quickly by the rest of the Weasley clan’s congratulation.

Hermione extracted herself eventually from the joyous celebration and went to stand over by Draco, who had been in the background watching the antics with some amusement.

“Care to explain what just happened?” He murmured to her. “Did I miss the part where you bury Potter for almost getting us killed?”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile as she watched Mrs. Weasley cry against Harry’s shoulder. The anger she had felt earlier towards Harry was still present, but more of a soft simmer instead of a raging boil. She couldn’t ignore what had happened to her and Draco over the past day, but she also knew that in this war, small joys needed to be celebrated.

“And how would I explain to my godson that I killed his father?” Hermione said.

“Self-defense?” Draco asked innocently, though the words echoed a more depressing note.

Hermione glanced up at him and saw that he was still gazing wistfully at the family before them. She wished she could read his mind, to see the inner turmoil that he was feeling and take some of the burden from him. 

Distracted by their congratulations of Harry, no one noticed as Hermione slipped her hand into Draco’s. No one saw the look he gave her as his hand tightened around her small one, the small quirk of the corner of his mouth as he continued to watch her as she turned her attention back to her family. 


	27. Chapter 27

Ginny woke some time later, equally as elated to receive the news of her baby’s gender. She had cried against Hermione’s shoulder in gratitude and guilt, the full weight of coming close to losing her baby and her life settling over her like a slab of concrete.

Hermione wanted to be angry with her, she _was_ angry with her, but in the moments where Ginny had wept against Hermione’s shirt, leaving tear stains on the deep green material, the anger faded. Instead, she had hugged her friend, whispered reassurances that both she and the baby were fine. Then she had stood back as Harry embraced her, allowing them the moment to share in the joy that was their son.

After Mrs. Weasley’s thanks of Draco, the rest of the clan made valiant efforts to include him in the happening. Charlie was surprisingly enough, the one who engaged with the blond wizard the most, discussing dragon taming adventures he had had in Egypt. The way that the grey eyes lit minutely at Charlies stories allowed Hermione a glimpse of what a younger Draco would have been like. A small boy with dreams of riding dragons.

Even Ron made a small effort to interact with his once enemy, politely giving his condolences before trying to make small talk about Quidditch. The entire scene warmed Hermione’s heart as she watched. Draco had told her that he was jealous of her, of how much she was loved by those around her. Seeing just how alone he was in his world only made her want to immerse him in hers.

After a while, Hermione left the group, confident that Draco would be occupied for some time with Charlies latest story. She made her way purposefully towards out of the tent and towards the Burrow, hoping that Blaise would be stationed in the healing office they had set up on the second floor.

The room used to be Percy’s room and Hermione still felt an echo of pain remembering the day when he had died. Blaise was sitting at the small desk tucked under the room’s only window, the desk that Hermione herself had brought into the space after Molly insisted that they convert the room into an office if the hospital was going to be just outside.

It was functional. Nothing like the offices she had trained through at St. Mungos with their grand desks and expansive files. Here they had what resources they could scrounge between raids. Despite Mrs. Weasley’s insistence that they convert the room however they needed, Hermione had left the majority of Percy’s belongings in place. The wall hangings that depicted pristine images of the Hogwarts houses, Ministry officials, even quidditch teams, had been left in their original space.

There had only been one addition to the mirage of wall décor, one that had made Mrs. Weasley burst into tears after seeing how Hermione had renovated the room. Directly across the door when one enters the room, Hermione had hung a modestly sized portrait of Percy. It had been taken the first year he received his head boy status, depicting him in his pristine school uniform, badge displayed proudly against the new black robes. It was something so quintessentially Percy, but it was the shift from the serious, proud expression to a broad, gleeful grin that made this photo perfect.

Suddenly feeling like an intruder in the space that had once been her main domain, Hermione paused at the doorway and knocked softly. Blaise turned immediately at the noise, the tension from his expectation of being drawn into another emergency disappeared immediately when he saw her. He looked tired, Hermione thought guiltily.

“Hermione! Welcome back.” He said warmly as he rose form the desk to hug her. The medical records strewn across the desk forgotten.

“Thanks.” Hermione replied, not missing the slight hint of radish scent she detected on his sweater. Trying to hide the resulting grin, she pulled away to look at him, barely able to restrain the multitude of questions that fell from her lips. “How have things been? How are supplies? Is there anything you need?” She rattled off several more before Blaise raised a hand to stop her.

“Hey, stop, breath. We’ve got things covered here. You’re supposed to be doing top secret undercover work and it won’t do you any good to be distracted by what you could be doing here.” He smiled softly, knowing exactly the turmoil that she felt at being away from her healing duties. But he also knew that what she was doing was far more important than anyone could imagine.

“I just want to make sure everything is alright.” Hermione said simply, wishing that she felt reassured by his words.

“And it is.” Blaise said with a shrug. “Or at least as alright as it’s going to be with the resources that we have.”

The resources they had were few and far between, Hermione knew, furrowing her brows. Every time she came back to the Order from the Manor it got harder and harder to leave again. She could see how much they needed help here, especially in the hospital which she had overseen for years. It was her baby and trusting it in the hands of someone else, even someone she would trust with her life, was difficult.

“I’m able to siphon off some potions that I’m making at the Manor and send them here. Godric knows Draco has enough ingredients.” She said, mentally going through the potions that she had been brewing over the past several months for the Voldemort’s storeroom.

Blaise furrowed his brows slightly. “Since when is it ‘Draco’ and not Malfoy?” He asked, trying to keep his tone light.

Hermione shot him a hard look. “Since when are you my mother and not my friend?” It was none of her business what had transpired between the two Slytherin friends, didn’t affect any aspect of her life and she wasn’t about to let it start. But she certainly wasn’t going to let Blaise lecture her.

He huffed at her comment and held up a hand in surrender.

“How is Luna by the way?” Hermione added offhandedly as she raised her brows at him before stepping past to scan over the documents sitting on the desk.

He rolled his eyes and let out a small laugh. “So you’re allowed to be involved in my personal relationships, but I’m not allowed to be involved in yours?”

“What makes you think I have a personal relationship with Malfoy.” Hermione asked, taking care to use his surname.

If his eye roll had been any bigger Blaise might have strained a muscle. “Look it’s none of my business, I just want you to be happy. You’re my best friend and I don’t want you getting hurt by him.”

She softened slightly and turned towards him. “He’s a good person, Blaise. And I know that he hasn’t always been, that he made terrible choices in the past.” Blaise made a noise in the back of his throat. “But he’s been really helpful.” Hermione continued, ignoring his interruption.

“I’m sure he has.” Blaise said, his tone portraying exactly how helpful he thought Malfoy was being.

Hermione bit the inside of her lip, trying to keep the flare of annoyance at bay. She was getting quite annoyed by the constant scrutiny of Draco’s character. Their personal relationship aside, he had saved her life on multiple occasions, had put himself in danger just by helping them. Even if he had personal motives for his role within the order, he was still taking great risks to help them.

Instead of making a snarky comment, she turned back to the desk, reaching down to finger some of the lists that Blaise had been making. They were ingredients, all of them for simple healing potions. She picked up the list and held it up to him.

“I’ll get these ingredients to you, or I’ll brew the potions at the Manor.” She said smoothly, tucking the paper into the pocket of her jeans. She started to move past him, forgetting the reason why she had even come into the office in the first place, but Blaise stopped her with a hand on her arm.

Sighing, he met her eyes directly. “I’m sorry. I really do just want what is best for you.”

Hermione took a moment before nodding. “I know, but you need to trust me. I’m relatively good at taking care of myself, have been for quite some time.”

“That doesn’t mean that people can’t be there for you.” Blaise said sternly. “You’re there for everyone else Hermione, let us return the favor every once in a while.”

***

She had left the office on good terms with Blaise, a silent understanding between them that their choices were their own responsibility.

While it had only been a short time since she had left Draco under the care of the Weasley’s in the medical tent, when she returned to Ginny’s bedside, he was nowhere to be found, neither were the rest of the Weasleys save Ginny and her mother.

“They’re out back by the quidditch field.” Ginny said with a yawn, gesturing absentmindedly towards the back of the Burrow.

The quidditch field? Hermione thought with confusion. The practice field the Weasley children had grown up riding around on their secondhand brooms hadn’t been used in years. Quidditch had been disbanded just a year after the Hogwarts battle, along with any other organized gatherings that could potentially be a front for the Order.

Taking care to keep within the wards that surrounded the Burrow and the hospital, Hermione made her way around the house, letting her hands float lightly over the heads of the wheat fields as she passed. It was a beautiful day, one of few. The white puffy clouds drifted lazily across the bright blue sky, casting shadows on the expansive fields surrounding the Burrow. Having felt like she had been shrouded in darkness for the past several months, Hermione felt blissful in the sunlight.

Once she rounded the old shed that held the brooms, she was met with a sight that had her grinning. Harry and Ron stood head to head on the overgrown quidditch pitch. The makeshift hoops that Hermione remembered from her visits here were resurrected, thought looking the worse for wear.

The scene was reminiscent of many that she had seen while spending weeks of her summers here. Harry and Ron served as obvious captains for the small group of players that crowded around them, including Malfoy, Hermione observed with raised brows.

The man in question was standing within the throws of redheads and other scattered Order members. He was gripping the handle of a broom likely older than one his father would have used while in school, but the look on his face, underneath the stony exterior, was positively giddy. Draco scanned the crowd slightly before meeting Hermione’s gaze from where she stood. From this distance she could barely make out the slight upward twitch of the corner of his mouth, something that had her smiling even wider.

Having divided the group into two teams, Harry and Ron disbanded to opposite ends of the field. Draco, having been placed somewhat disgruntledly on Ron’s team, passed close to where Hermione was standing.

“Not going to play Granger?” He asked with a hint of a teasing smile, his usually tailored shirt was rolled to his elbows, displaying the taut muscles against his pale skin.

She returned the smile easily and cross her arms over her chest, feeling a slight chill from the autumn breeze blowing around them.

“No, thanks. I’ve had enough flying in my life.” She replied casually, but memories of dragons and fearful broom rides through the room of requirement made her heartbeat slightly faster.

Catching the tone in her words, Draco tilted his head at her. “Scared?” The question wasn’t one of mocking, wasn’t meant to tease her about the fear that he heard, but a genuine question of interest.

“Something like that.” Hermione replied more somberly. “I’d mess up the game anyways, quidditch never has been a skill I’ve possessed.”

The group of players began to speak more loudly behind them, and Draco glanced over his shoulder. “Well you’d better work on that.” He said simply with a soft smile before turning back to his teammates.

Hermione watched him and the rest of the group rise into the air on their brooms, the golden wings of the snitch flashed once in the sunlight before disappearing. She sighed at the familiarity of the place before lowering to the ground, crossing her jean clad legs beneath her as she watched the game begin.

It seemed that the years off the pitch had done nothing to dampen Malfoy’s form. His grey eyes scanned the area looking for the snitch, just as Harry was doing on the opposite end of the field. It was very reminiscent of the matches they had faced each other at Hogwarts.

The game progressed with fluidity and obvious glee. Many of the players were refugees of the Order as well as active members. Voldemort had forced many from their homes, hunting them like deer until there were only a few villages left that muggleborns and halfbloods could rightfully call their homes.

The brooms flew silently in the air above her and several times Hermione had to lean bac and shield her eyes from the sun to see how high they had flown. She thought she caught a glimpse of the snitch once during the middle of the game but decided it was simple a flash of light off of one of the broom’s footholds.

She found her eyes constantly being drawn to Draco, watching as he swooped around the field, assisting the chasers all while keeping an eye out for the elusive snitch. His thighs gripped the broom handle with powerful ease and Hermione swallowed, remembering the sensation of that power and muscle between her own thighs. He was having fun, Hermione realized with a soft smile.

Several pieces of shredded grass lay across her leg when sharp movement above her caught her attention. Harry has turned his broom sharply, seemingly to chase after Draco’s hard swoop towards the ground. Several of the other members stopped their play to watch the motions.

Hermione’s breath caught as Draco rushed towards the ground, digging her nails into her palms. Months being on edge knowing that if something happened to Malfoy, she would be dead, had the nerves within her automatically strung tight as he hurtled to the ground. At the last minute, Draco pulled up hard on the handle of his broom with one hand as the other snatched out in midair. He came out of the dive gracefully, more graceful than he had ever done on the school quidditch pitch.

Several whoops and shouts sounded from Draco’s teammates as they realized he had caught the snitch and won the game for them. Hermione resisted the urge to roll her eyes as Draco sat back on his broom, holding the golden ball triumphantly around him. No matter how many times he was tortured, no many how many people he had been forced to hurt in the past year, nothing could hinder the childlike glee he felt every time he caught the snitch.

The players gradually lowered themselves to the ground, slipping off the ancient brooms with smiles on their faces, foreheads glinting with sweat. Harry slid off his broom with a laugh and went over to stand in front of Draco.

“If I didn’t know better, Malfoy, I’d say you’ve been practicing.” He said with a grin, wiping his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. Hermione noticed that the broom he was holding was not his Firebolt and instead was one of the shed brooms.

Draco tossed the snitched to Harry who pocketed it. “I’d say you’re just out of practice Potter.” He replied casually.

This time Hermione did roll her eyes as she pushed herself to her feet, dusting the grass she had been playing with off her lap. The end of the match had brought with it the reminder that there were other important things to tend to, that there was a war still going on around them.

***

Several hours later, Hermione closed the door on what used to be Ginny’s bedroom with a sigh. Having spent most of the rest of the day helping Blaise out with patient’s, she was beat. Draco had been a welcome addition to the hospital staff, taking over the back bench to brew potions that were immediately utilized. He really looked to be in his element as he stood over the simmering cauldron’s, methodically switching between adding ingredients and stirring the contents.

Mrs. Weasley had provided dinner, which Hermione and Draco ate quickly between the tasks. It felt odd to say, after everything he had been put in charge of within Voldemort’s ranks, but Draco felt useful for the first time in a long time. He worked harder than he had in a long time but felt thoroughly satisfied when he finally stepped outside of the tent for the night.

He had been assigned a cot in the room with Charlie, something he didn’t actually mind given the interesting stories the redhead had to tell. While the environment was foreign to him compared to his aristocratic upbringing, he had never felt more comfortable as he listened to Charlie babble on from his bed about the different breeds of dragons he had worked with. After almost an hour more, the only sound in the room was the soft, muffled noise of snores coming from the redhead’s bunk.

Draco shifted on his cot, trying for the hundredth time to get more comfortable so that he could sleep. The window allowed a sliver of moonlight in that illuminated the room with a soft glow, keeping Draco wide awake.

After what felt like a lifetime of laying there, he got up, trying to be silent as he slipped from the room and down the stairs.

Hermione opened the door on his second knock, rubbing her eyes tiredly as she did. Malfoy smirked at the oversized t-shirt she wore as bedclothes which depicted a large logo of the Chudley Cannons on the front, her bare legs long and lean below her.

“Malfoy?” Hermione asked in confusion when the sleep cleared enough from her brain to recognize the figure in the darkened hallway.

“Thought you didn’t care for quidditch?” He asked, gesturing down at her shirt when a confused look crossed her face.

“Oh. Well it’s not quidditch per say, just flying. Besides,” She added, self consciously tugging the hem of the shirt lower over her thighs. “It’s Ron’s.”

He let the quick flash of jealousy wash through him, remembering that she and the Weasel were not a couple and as much as her wearing his t-shirt now might indicate, the redhead was unlikely to be found in her bed.

“Did you need something?” Hermione asked, yawning again.

“No, not really.” He said with a shake of his head. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed slightly as she watched him. “Okay.” She said, not entirely sure what else to say, or why he was standing at her door in the middle of the night.

Draco ran a hand through his hair. “Care to take a walk with me?” He asked, not entirely sure what his intentions were. He had laid in that cot trying to fall asleep but could only think about how much he wanted to be near her. Even as comfortable as he had felt within the workings of the Order today, it was nothing compared to how comfortable he felt near her.

“A walk?” She asked in surprise and confusion. “Draco it’s the middle of the night.”

He shrugged slightly. “I know. Like I said, couldn’t sleep.”

The innocent way he said it almost had her smiling. “Okay, just let me get something warmer on.”

Draco smiled at her back as she disappeared back into the dark room, listening to her move around as she changed. Only a few minutes later she reemerged out in the hallways, pulling her curly hair into a tail behind her. Her legs were now clad in black leggings, Draco noted disappointedly, but found that the black cotton showed the shape of them perfectly.

Hermione cleared her throat as she caught him eyeing her, raising her brows as his grey eyes met hers in the dark. He merely shrugged and reached down to take her hand, pulling her behind him down the two flights of stairs.

Once outside, Hermione breathed in the cool air, the soft glow from the hospital tent shown on the wet grass as Draco led her around the back of the house along the wheat fields.

“Where are we going?” Hermione asked quietly, though conscious of the fact that no one could hear them out here.

Draco glanced down at her. “For a walk.” He replied simply, steering the in the direction he had chosen on the way to her room.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes before Hermione recognized the direction they were headed. Halting in her step, she turned wide eyes to Draco.

“No.” She said, resisting the pressure of his hand on her back.

Draco stopped walking and turned to her. “Come on Granger. Have you ever ridden a broom when it wasn’t under duress?”

She hadn’t, Hermione thought, other than during flying class their first year at Hogwarts. Scowling, she shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. One’s state of mind does not rid one of fear of heights.”

Draco chuckled and rolled his eyes. “Well one’s fear of heights can be conquered by only flying a few feet off the ground.”

“I hate flying, Draco.” She said, the hint of anxiety notable in her voice.

He looked down at her for a moment before turning and walking to the broom shed, pulling out the same broom he had used earlier in the day for the match. Carrying it with him, he returned to stand in front of her. “You used to hate me too, but now look at us.”

It irked her when he was right. Furrowing her brows, she glared at the broom in his hand for a few seconds before sighing. She was Hermione Bloody Granger. She was the brightest witch of her age, had ridden dragons and faced the darkest wizard of all-time face to face. She could ride a broom.

“Fine.” She said finally, eyeing him. “But not too high.”

Draco raised the hand not gripping the broom a small smile tilting his lips. “Of course.”

He mounted the broom swiftly, almost unconsciously sliding his hands along the smooth wood of the handle before turning to her. He could feel the broom all but quiver beneath him, as if eager to be in use after so many years of neglect. Hermione bit the inside of her lip before taking his offered hand and straddling the broom behind him. Her arms wrapped immediately around Draco’s waist as she pressed her forehead against his back, taking a deep breath.

“Relax, Granger.” Draco said over his shoulder to her as he felt her arms tighten around him. “I haven’t dropped anyone yet.”

“Yet being the operative word.” Hermione said, her voice muffled against the material of his sweatshirt.

Draco smiled smugly as he kicked off the ground, almost wishing that he had put Hermione in front as her arms tightened even more with the movement. Gradually he pressed forward, easing the broom slowly across the lawn, their feet just brushing the tops of the overgrown wheat below them.

The chilly breeze felt freeing against his cheeks as he glided along. He almost forgot Hermione was behind him until he heard her audible intake of breath.

“I thought you said not too high.” She said, glancing fearfully at the ground whizzing by below them.

The shudder of his abdomen gave away his laughter and she resisted the urge to pinch him. “Stop looking at the ground, Granger.” He said. “Look up.”

He felt her hesitate behind him, her cheek still pressed tight against his back. In truth it had been a long time since he had ridden with anyone on a broom. Besides the quick ride behind Potter in the Room of Requirement during the battle, he had done several laps with a few of the Slytherin girls to show off.

Finally resigned, Hermione pulled away from Draco’s back slightly and followed his instructions and looked up.

The clear sky gave a perfect view of the moon above them that casted shimmering waves of light over the wheat below them. The beauty of it all almost had her loosening her grip around Draco as she leaned further away. Never in her life had she associated riding a broom with being peaceful, but in that moment that was exactly how she felt.

Feeling her hands loosen around him, Draco glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the expression on Hermione’s face. Her mouth of slightly parted as she tilted her head back to take in the bright stars above. He knew the magic of flying, of rushing through the air meeting only the resistance of wind, and he could see that she felt it too.

“Which one is Draco?” Hermione asked suddenly, her eyes dropping to the back of Draco’s pale haired head.

“What?” He asked, the wind swept his voice back to her.

“Constellation.” Hermione replied with a smile at the back of his head. “Which one is Draco?”

Furrowing his brows, Draco swiveled his head, scanning the night sky for his namesake. His mother once told him that his father had wanted to name him Capricornus, but when he was born, she said that he was a dragon through and through. He normally didn’t pay attention to the rotation of the constellations, finding the century old tradition of naming babies after star formations silly.

After another moment of flying and searching the stars, Draco lifted one hand from the handle of the broom and pointed.

“There. Just by Ursa Minor.” Draco traced the familiar, snake-like formation of stars with his finger. For a moment he was taken back to the times when his mother would bring him out on the Manor lawn to show him the constellation he was named for. She would show him the different star formations throughout the year, the lessons almost a family history as she described his ancestors that held the same names.

Hermione followed where he was pointing and tried to determine which stars belonged in the constellation. She could always find the big dipper, then the little dipper, but any further astronomical formations were as foreign to her as divination. 

“I don’t see it.” Hermione said, furrowing her brows as she tried to follow the path that Draco traced in the sky.

He glanced over his shoulder at her, wondering briefly if she knew that her grip had relaxed even more around his waist. Slowly, he pulled the broom to a stop, allowing them to hover over the rippling fields below them. He sat up strait, taking both hands off the broom handle.

“Hey!” Hermione cried out, tightening her grip once again.

“Oh relax.” Draco said with a laugh. “We’re only a few meters off the ground.”

“People break bones from a shorter height.” Hermione said with a huff but loosened her arms.

Twisting on his perch on the broom, he took one of her hands off of his waist and gripped her hand. Using her finger as an indicator, he tried to trace the lines of the constellation so that it would be visible from her perspective.

“… and then just follow the tail up around the little dipper.” He finished explaining as her finger traced the position of the final star.

“It’s like a snake.” Hermione said, resting her hand on her leg as he released her. “How fitting.”

“Funny, Granger.” Draco said, rolling his eyes. “And it’s a dragon, hence Draco.”

“Technically snakes and dragons are related so...” She said, enjoying the banter. Draco was just as smart as she was, and it showed. He was able to keep up with her quips and didn’t ask her to explain herself when she made an offhanded comment. While she valued intelligence in herself, she was surprised to find how much she appreciated it in others.

When they weren’t moving, being suspended above the ground, overlooking the moonlit fields was incredibly peaceful. Hermione looked around them, finding that they had traveled a decent distance in the short time since flying. The burrow was just a shadow in the distances, lit only by the soft glow of the moon.

Feeling secure on her positioning on the broom, she leaned away from Draco and took a deep breath of the fresh, chilly air. Maybe flying wasn’t so bad, she thought as she glanced towards the ground.

“So what’s your plan Granger?” Malfoy’s voice cut through the serene silence, startling her.

“My plan?” Hermione asked, steadying herself. “What do you mean?”

Draco shrugged, scanning his own gaze along the horizon. “I mean after everything is over, assuming you win the war.”

Hermione thought for a moment. What would she do after the war, assuming they won of course. It was a fantasy that she had indulged in often, though from a different perspective. For some reason it was actually easier to picture a world in which they didn’t win, to imagine the terror and chaos that had been their lives for the past six years continuing.

“I don’t know.” She admitted. Thinking for another moment, she shrugged. “I guess I’d want to help rebuilt some of the hospitals. Work with the Order to reestablish the Ministry, or some form of it.” She paused and sighed, getting caught up in the fictional world she was imagining. “I want to live in my apartment for longer than a few months without worrying about getting attacked. I want to travel, Italy maybe.”

“Italy’s nice.” Draco interceded. “I’ve got family there. We used to spend some summer’s on Sicily.”

Hermione snorted. “Of course you did. So what are your grand plans after we’re done?”

She felt him tense momentarily before he answered her. “Well, as a Death Eater, I suppose my plans will involve rotting in a cell in Azkaban. But that only depends on how liberal they dole out the dementors kiss.”

Hermione’s brows automatically furrowed as he spoke. “Draco you’re not going to end up in Azkaban. You’re helping us.”

Draco turned on the broom to look at her over his shoulder. “That won’t mean anything. I’ve been a Death Eater since I was sixteen, that’s years of work that won’t be ignored in a trial. Not to mention the reputation that I have seemingly built in the outside world. Trust me, Azkaban will be the lesser evil of the fates lined up for my future.”

“What would be the greater evil?” Hermione asked, the conversation about Draco going to jail making her uncomfortable.

Turning his head back to face the world around them, Draco looked once again up at the constellation his mother chose for him. He didn’t exactly know how to tell her that the greater evils of his future would be them being discovered in their work for the Order and being killed for it. He didn’t tell her that if they were discovered, she would die first in Voldemort’s sick way of hurting Draco from the inside out. And he certainly didn’t tell her that the idea of watching her die in front of him made his stomach drop more than any dive on a broom ever had.


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully a long chapter will make up for my absence :) I'm hoping to have more motivation to write now that things have settled down at bit. As always let me know what you think of the story thus far or any comments you have.

As expected, Hermione had plenty to say about not being included in the plans for the orphanage attack. So many things had gone wrong because of the exclusion, which they discovered from Lupin was because of the Order’s fear that Voldemort would connect their involvement in the cave with the orphanage. But no amount of explaining would allow Hermione to forgive them for their decision to exclude them.

She was fuming by the end of the meeting with the full order, sick of listening to how the decision that had almost gotten her raped, that had forced Draco to kill his father, was all for their own good. Selfish, Hermione thought as the group disbanded.

Draco had been surprisingly quiet throughout the meeting, only offering small snips of information regarding the next steps in their plan. His facial expressions had been tight but neutral as Hermione had fought back against Lupin while they explained their rationale. Hermione couldn’t decide whether to be angry or grateful for Draco’s silence. The folly had cost him the most; his father and his morality.

In truth he felt numb throughout the entire discussion, thoughts of his father’s blood and Hermione’s fear that night slipped across his conscious. The feelings he was developing for her were unnerving, and frightening to say the least. For years he had kept everything inside, never allowing himself to develop an attachment to anything or anyone. His mother was the last person who warranted his affection and look what happened to her.

The direction he felt his feelings going with Hermione was dangerous. He knew only too well the consequences of developing feelings for someone. Voldemort’s mocking words of being in love unnerved him. He didn’t love her, barely even liked her. Though even as he tried to convince himself, he knew it was a lie.

After their midnight broom ride the previous evening, he had left her at her bedroom door, wishing more than anything he could follow her to bed. There wasn’t a specific moment in time that he could pinpoint where he had fallen for her. The shift from enemy to acquaintance, even friend, was something Draco had expected in their close living situation, but they seemed to have jumped over whatever line in the sand was drawn.

Ultimately it would never work between them, deep down they both knew that. There was no future where they would both be free to be together. If the Order was unsuccessful, then the rest of Hermione’s life would be spent on the run or living in an apocalyptic wizarding society. And if they were successful, then Draco would be facing a future behind bars.

The tiny rational voice that for much of his life he had chosen to ignore, screamed at him to end things, to cut off his feelings before they had horrible consequences. It was difficult though, he thought, watching her from across the room as she spoke in quiet tones to Harry. She was strong, resilient, confident, but yet vulnerable underneath everything. She would do great things with her life and he knew that he wouldn’t be around to see them.

***

Several hours later as they prepared to leave, Draco realized just how much he wished they could stay. Between his growing comfort with the Weasley’s and the joy that came from watching Hermione relax, the thought of returning to the bleakness of the manor was daunting. As dingy as Grimmauld place was, as hectic as the Burrow was, they were both more appealing to him than the cold marble awaiting them.

They floo’d into his study, dark heaviness immediately cascading over the sliver of residual warmth of the Burrow. Hermione sighed audibly as she stepped out of the floo, hugging herself at the familiar but haunting room. Draco caught the movement as he followed through the fireplace and restrained himself from reaching out to touch her, his earlier thoughts a dark cloud.

Before either could speak, the surprising sound of voices drifted to them from behind the closed study doors. Draco’s well-honed defenses and awareness snapped to front and center as Hermione turned wide, brown eyes to him. Both were frozen in their moments, like mice in a trap, waiting for someone to burst through the door.

“Who…?” Hermione began to ask but was cut off by a sharp raise of Draco’s hand.

There were people in the house, no portrait would dare speak at that level in this house, Lucius had made sure of that. The voices growing louder outside the door causing Draco to act. Moving quickly, he gripped Hermione’s arm and pulled her across the room. Pushing her beside a large bookshelf so she would be out of view of the door, he stood for a moment and listened to the noises.

Hermione felt her heart pounding as she breathed slowly, even knowing that the heavy wooden doors were heavy enough to block their noise. As far as she knew, no one had been allowed visitation in the Manor since the last time Voldemort had occupied the house. Lucius had been outcast and Draco was too private.

After another moment of listening, Draco looked down at her.

“I’m going to see who is here, you need to stay out of sight until I can get your ring.”

Painfully aware that they were no longer at the Burrow where her true identity was known and wouldn’t get her killed, Hermione nodded. In the months that she had been at the Manor they had not had a visitor other than Pansy. But the amount of different voices coming from the hall outside eluded to a large party, and Hermione could think of only one group who would arrive without the decency of an invitation.

“Where do you keep them?” Draco asked, his tone cooling as he prepared to once again resume the role of Master of Malfoy Manor.

“What if it’s just Pansy?” She asked, trying to lull her nerves into a false sense of security. They could deal with Pansy.

Draco shook his head sharply, only half paying attention to her as he listened to a high-pitched squeal and laughter sound from outside.

“It’s not, she would never invite guests here without my permission. And Theo knows better.” He looked down at Hermione again, forcing her to meet his eyes. “It’s going to be Death Eaters outside that door, if not the Dark Lord himself. Get ahold of yourself, Granger. Now where are the rings?”

The mere thought that Death Eaters were inside this place that, while formidable, Hermione had always thought of as a fortress, was enough to snap the defenses into place.

“They’re in the top drawer of the desk, in a small bag. The wedding ring is in there too, don’t forget that.”

He nodded again, having not even noticed that they hadn’t worn the emerald ring during their visit to the Burrow, and started to move away from her when she gripped his arm.

“What do I do?” Hermione asked, starting to feel panic at his leaving her.

“Stay here and don’t make a sound. I’m closing the door behind me and most of them will know not to bother the study. Just wait for me to get back.”

Hermione drew in a deep breath and nodded as he pulled out of her grasp and quickly departed the room. Feeling rooted to the spot, she listened to a chorus of “Malfoy!” as whoever was outside that door greeted Draco. Slowly, she pulled her wand out of her pocket, gripping the wood so tightly that her knuckles turned white. And then she waited.

***

“Malfoy!”

Draco blinked at the chorus of voices that assaulted his eardrums. Closing the door firmly behind him, he turned and took in the group of people loitering in the main hall. Recognizing several Death Eaters from the caves, he inclined his head in greeting. Dolohov stepped forward from the group, a crystal glass that Draco recognized as one of his mother’s collection was gripped tight in his grasp.

The man clapped Draco on the shoulder, the smell of alcohol wafting off him. “Draco, young man, so good of you to finally grace us with your presence.”

Despite Dolohov being drunk, Draco detected the underlying malice in the man’s words. While Draco had risen among Voldemort’s ranks, Dolohov had remained stagnant, hatred brewing as he was passed over for promotion time and time again. After his failure to capture Potter after the Weasley wedding those years ago, his status within the regime dropped like a stone.

Forcing a diplomatic expression, Draco shrugged off the man’s hand and gave him a stern look. “Well if I’d have known I was expecting company, I certainly would have been here.” His tone was calm and cool, all the while his thoughts flitted with anxiety.

Dolohov laughed, drawing the attention of the small group dallying in the hallway. “What the Dark Lord wants…” He trailed off with a shrug of his shoulder, glancing fearfully behind him as if Voldemort would appear out of thin air. Draco raised his brows at the man; even his drunken state would not excuse a slur against their master.

As if coming back to himself, Dolohov cleared his throat and casually glanced around them at the small audience that had tuned in for the encounter. Spying was not uncommon among the Dark Lord’s ranks. In fact, many of Voldemort’s victims over the past several years had been chosen specifically for their dissenting view of his rule.

“Now where is your lovely wife tonight, Malfoy? I’d have thought she would have been at your side seeing how close the two of you have become.” Someone Draco didn’t recognize asked.

Keeping his demeanor collected, Draco met the man’s eyes. Something about the intense curiosity and heat present there made Draco think that the thought of his ‘lovely wife’ was more to blame than the drink. Scum, he thought shortly.

“She’ll be along shortly.” He replied, refusing to add any more to the explanation. In this world he was in charge; he was respected, revered, feared. Unless it was the Dark Lord or other members of the council, Draco knew that he didn’t owe anything to anyone.

Without another word, he pushed through the men and walked casually up the grand staircase at the end of the hall, hearing with dismay the loud voices coming from the ballroom. Having had the door closed for the duration of Hermione’s residence, seeing it flung wide open now with the flurry of black capes through the door was disconcerting.

Once at the top of the stairs his pace quickened, moving swiftly to the door of Hermione’s room. Relieved, he found that the room was empty, hoping that the rest of the rooms on this floor lay untouched by their unexpected guests.

He found the small pouch holding the rings quickly, pausing only for a moment as he recognized the piece of paper tucked carefully next to them in the drawer. The words he had spoken to her that first night echoed back at him and he was reminded again of the seriousness of their task. The temptation to read her final wishes that she had carefully detailed that night was overruled by the knowledge that she was waiting for him.

After changing out of his more casual clothes on his way, Draco found himself back in the study. Hermione jumped at the opening of the door but let out a relieved breath seeing that it was just him. Feeling a sense of urgency, she rushed forward and took the rings from him.

As much as he disliked seeing her familiar features disappear, the now cold blue eyes staring up at him helped to cement his mindset.

“Who’s out there?” Hermione asked, feeling more comfortable now that she was hidden. He had brought with her own change of clothes and she quickly changed, appreciating the dark grey, long-sleeved dress that seemed to float about her.

“I think the more apt question is who isn’t.” He said shortly, gesturing her to follow him. “There’s a few just out in the hallway, but the majority are in the ballroom.”

Hermione faltered in her steps following him, feeling her heart skip as an icy cold rushed across her skin. Draco turned at her lack of movement and immediately noticed the fear in her eyes. The ballroom had been sealed off since she had been here, and in a way, Hermione had forgotten about it. It had been easy to disassociate the Manor with the terrible memories if she didn’t have to see the place every day.

Taking a step towards her, Draco met her eyes sternly. “Are you alright?”

She blinked at him and took a deep breath, trying to overcome the irrational grip of fear that had overtaken her. “I’m fine.” She replied, the weak determination in her voice contradicting the words.

Draco’s brows furrowed for a moment before he nodded. He wasn’t stupid and knew that she was not fine, but he also wasn’t one to question strength. Lucius had conditioned Draco from a young age to not show weakness or coddle others, and while he hated to take the man’s advice, it seemed appropriate in this situation.

“Alright, they’ll be waiting for us.” He said simply, watching her internal struggle to get her emotions under control.

Determined, Hermione drew up the mental wall that had become familiar to her and pushed all of the fear and memories of the room behind it. It was just a room, she reminded herself, over and over again. A room that she had been tortured in, but then hundreds of people had experienced torture during this war, she was nothing special. The mantra played on repeat as they walked through the doorway out into the ghastly lit hall.

The room really shouldn’t have held those emotions for her anymore. She had been tortured by the Dark Lord since then, had been subjected to thousands of painful and uncomfortable situations involving death and pain. But having studied medicine, she knew that certain things could be triggers for a patient’s PTSD and unfortunately, the room itself seemed to be one for her. 

Still, she braced her shoulders and moved when Draco did, ignoring his still furrowed brows. Sticking to his side, they moved into the hallway, the low light of the lanterns illuminated the pale faces that turned to greet them. A few of them alighted on her with looks that made her squeamish, but she simply looked back with a cool gaze, one appropriate for the mistress of the manor. 

“Ah, Mrs. Malfoy, good of you to join us.” An older man whom Hermione recognized from the caves stepped forward and took her hand, raising it to his lips. Hermione didn’t flinch when his wet lips pressed against her skin, only kept her eyes on his brown ones.

“Yancor.” She said with a small inclination of her head to the man holding her hand, and then to the other’s grouped behind him. “Forgive my tardiness, Draco was helping me gather herbs for some potions. Had I known we were expecting visitors I would have made sure to have bene here to welcome you all.”

Not the first time, Draco was impressed with her calm, cold demeanor and had to admit that she would have made his mother proud.

The Death Eater holding her hand gave her a tight smile and took a step back, eyes flicking between the coupled in front of him. “Of course. This visit was unannounced, but you’re here now, and the Dark Lord I’m sure appreciates your hospitality.”

The formality of the conversation made Hermione want to laugh. Over the past several months she had found that the pureblooded wizarding families who followed Voldemort were very much ingrained in the old ways. Formal to a fault in person, though ruthless towards their enemies. It was fascinating to her and for a moment she wondered if it was reminiscent of how witches and wizards would have interacted decades ago.

“Speaking of,” Draco interceded, taking a step towards them, the urge to tear Yancor’s hand away from Hermione bubbling dangerously high. “Where is our Lord?”

Yancor looked up at Draco with a hint of malice in his eyes. Dropping Hermione’s hand, he gestured over his shoulder towards the open ballroom. “In his rightful spot of course. I’m surprised you didn’t seek him out immediately.”

Draco narrowed his eyes and smiled a tight-lipped smile. “I needed to alert my wife of our guests. I’m sure the Dark Lord will understand.”

Without another word, Draco slipped a hand around Hermione’s waist and pulled her away from the small group. They followed him like a flock of sheep, deferring to the leader among them for direction.

The ballroom wasn’t quite filled with people but there were enough to where Hermione felt somewhat claustrophobic. The room was dimly lit with the same eerie green light that was present in the caves, giving a ghostly sheen to the black marble floor below their feet. Figures moved around them as if unaware of their presence, the scent that hung over the crowd was evidence to Draco that they had helped themselves to the fine liquor that Lucius has always kept stocked.

As Yancor had said, Voldemort was indeed in his rightful place, seated in a sort of throne of couches and pillows near the great fireplace. Bellatrix was lounging next to him, obviously ecstatic about her position of favor seated so close to her master. The witch’s long pale fingers toyed with the black robe at Voldemort’s throat, her lips just inches from where the man’s ear would have been. Draco and Hermione stepped between people and made their way towards where they sat.

Bellatrix flicked her cat-like gaze towards them to watch them approach, obviously biting her lip with pleasure as she anticipated the punishment they would receive for not being present on their arrival. Draco didn’t look at her, nor did Hermione as she knew that the fragile hold she had on her memories would break if she saw the with who had tortured her.

“Ahh, Draco.” Voldemort hissed as the couple came to a halt in front of his throne.

“My Lord.” Draco said with a complete bow. Hermione followed suit and bent slightly, sensing Bellatrix’s eyes on her. “You grace us with your presence in my home. I am deeply sorry for not being here to welcome you, I would have had a feast prepared in your honor.”

He stayed bowed, knowing that they were treading in dangerous waters. Even with the surprising and unannounced visit, Voldemort still expected his followers to be devoted to him, awaiting his needs at every second. Penance would be at the Dark Lords discretion tonight.

After what felt like a lifetime, Voldemort spoke. His oily, hissing voice cutting through the sounds of jovial antics around them.

“Fear not, Draco. You are here now, you and your wife.” His red eyes slid to Hermione. Bellatrix made a pouting sound at his words; obviously she had expected a scene of torture instead of the polite, though tense display before them. Voldemort didn’t pay her any head though, leaning away from her touch as he surveyed the young people.

Draco stood fully then, meeting the red eyes as they slipped from Hermione to him. He could tell there was fury in the ruby depths, a desire to punish the both of them. Not giving him the chance to linger on those thoughts, he spoke quickly.

“You are welcome to my home as long as you need it. I know my father would have been just as honored as I am with your presence.”

Voldemort regarded the much younger man, as if trying to detect the lie behind it, trying to catch him in a further act of betrayal to satisfy his bloodlust. Instead, he tilted his head slightly. “Fear not Draco, our presence is only temporary. With the recent… attacks, I feel the need to change locations. Some things have been too close.” He trailed off at the end, his voice almost a whisper as his eyes went blank.

It was then that Draco saw that the Dark Lord was scared. Hermione had explained to him about the horcruxes and from Voldemort’s behavior of hiding underground, he was certain that the wizard knew some of them had been destroyed. Over the past several years he had felt protected underground, but now with the Order’s well-placed attacks, Voldemort felt threatened.

He longed to pull Hermione away immediately and tell her his theory, urge her to get the Order to act now while Voldemort felt vulnerable. But he checked his impulses, knowing that he was being watched intently by his aunt.

Bowing again, Draco drew Hermione away, both feeling the chilly gaze of the black-haired witch following them. Weaving through the crowd, they found a somewhat quiet and unoccupied corner of the room. To anyone who saw them it would appear as though they were having a lover’s conversation, head’s bend together, Draco’s shoulder resting casually against the wall as he ran a thumb over the knuckles of Hermione’s hand. 

Looking around them, Hermione tried to keep her expression casual. “Were there any upstairs?” His light touches were comforting now, so very different than the stiff anxiety they had initially induced during their first charade in the caves. 

“No, and I’ve barred your room from entrance so as long as they are here, you’ll be staying with me.”

She glanced up at him, but he met her eyes coolly seeing the argument that sprung to her lips. “In this world we’re married, it would be a bit odd to see us going to separate bedrooms.” The silent admonishing “Granger” was evident in the uplifted brows.

“Maybe we’ve had a fight.” She said, a hint of teasing in her tone. “It’s not like we used to be mortal enemies or anything.”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes but pressed his fingers harder against her hand. She gave him a soft smile before turning her eyes back to the room around them. Small parties had formed across the expansive space, and with the drink the Death Eaters were starting to display some of the more distasteful behaviors that they did down in the cave. Hermione rolled her eyes at one couple currently heavily snogging on one of the green velvet couches against the wall, the woman’s hips gyrating against the mans.

“Well I assume the lack of beds won’t be an issue.” She said cooly.

Draco followed her eyes and the corner of his mouth quirked up. “For this crowd lack of beds is never a problem.”

“Don’t they have homes to go to?” Hermione asked, brows furrowed as she took in some of the younger Death Eaters in the room, thinking that they should be at Hogwart’s learning instead of Draco’s ballroom. Some of them looked nervously around them and Hermione wondered if they were looking for the family member that must have brought them with.

“Some do.” Draco replied casually. “Many were lost souls when they joined up, without any ties to anything. They’ll be scattered around the Manor and grounds for as long as he decides to stay. I’ll have to hire more help for Kildy to accommodate them all.”

Hermione’s brows narrowed at the mention of the poor elf who must have been terrified to find the house filled with Death Eaters when she was only expecting Draco and her.

“Don’t worry, Kildy knows how to handle these situations. Our Lord was with us for over a year before remember.” Draco said as if sensing her anxiety for the elf.

They were silent for a moment a couple of men passed by them, passing a nearly empty bottle of goblin liquor between them. Draco winced as the sight, remembering his father special ordering the bottles for 1,000 galleons each. “Though I’ll have to start hiding the valuables if this keeps up.”

At that moment, one of the younger Death Eater’s approached them, dragging along what Hermione could obviously see was his girlfriend. The young man was tall and slim, black hair hung limply around his shoulders. For a moment, Hermione had a brief flash of memory of Professor Snape and imagined that this could have been him as a younger man.

“Braxton.” Draco acknowledged the couple with familiarity, pushing away from the wall to shake the man’s hand. “Good to see you’re joining us at last.”

The young man nodded, though Hermione could tell that he did not share the same joy at his presence here.

“It’s good to serve our Lord.” He said simply, meeting Draco’s grey eyes openly.

The young man was someone that Draco had grown up with. Six years younger, he was the closest thing to a little brother Draco would ever have. Blaise, Theo and him had all been initially annoyed when Braxton’s father had brought the young boy into their group, but they soon adopted him as one of their own. Hearing the defeated tone in the boy’s voice tonight was painful, but Draco knew to keep his expression neutral.

Instead of engaging Draco further, Braxton turned surprisingly to Hermione, bowing slightly when he took her hand in his. Hermione blinked at the gesture and looked quickly over to Draco who was watching with somewhat furrowed brows.

“Mrs. Malfoy,” Braxton said, raising to meet her eyes. “I wanted to thank you personally for healing my father during the latest siege. He told my mother and I that without your interventions he most certainly would have died. He sings your praises and I had to take this opportunity to thank you personally.”

“Oh, you’re welcome.” It was all that Hermione could say, blanking at just who his father might be. The orphanage raid had resulted in many patients for her. The blur of memories from that night resulted in a few of her providing triage assistance to some of the fallen Death Eaters, though she couldn’t place anyone who resembled this young man.

“He was not strong enough to attend to our Lord tonight, but I know he would be just as appreciative.”

The praise was making her uncomfortable, realizing that it was the first time she had been thanked for her work since arriving among the ranks of Death Eaters. Serving the Dark Lord was a thankless task, draining and frightening, rewarded only with the gift of keeping your life.

“How is your mother?” Draco asked casually, rescuing Hermione from her obvious discomfort.

Braxton turned his dark eyes back to Draco and smiled softly at the thought of his mother. Hermione wondered if it was a trend that the sons of Death Eaters would hold high regard for their mothers. While the two friends conversed easily about their shared childhood and families, Hermione took the opportunity to study the young woman standing awkwardly just behind Braxton.

She was pretty, in a haunting sort of way. Only slightly taller than Hermione, her dirty blond hair was pulled tightly into a bun at the nape of her neck, her large blue eyes watched Braxton with a mixture of fear and longing and she fiddle nervously with her deep blue skirt. For some reason Hermione did not think that she was someone who had been raised in the same circle as the boys had. She seemed a frightened mouse in a room of cats.

Unable to not try and ease some of the girl’s fears, Hermione smiled slightly at her. The girl caught her eye and blinked, obviously not expecting a woman of Hermione, or Olivia’s, status to interact with her. But Hermione kept her smile and held out a hand to the girl.

“Hello, we haven’t been introduced. I’m Olivia, Olivia Malfoy.”

The young girl nodded quickly, hesitantly taking Hermione’s hand. “I know. It is a pleasure to meet you Mrs. Malfoy, your reputation is truly renown.”

Hermione’s brows furrowed at the thought of how widespread rumors about her presence seemed to have spread. She didn’t quite understand the fascination with her and wished that she could remain a lowly healer of insignificant repute. Being well known would only cause trouble, and Hermione was used to blending in.

As if sensing the shift in Hermione’s mood, the girl spoke quickly. “Oh no, I only meant that everyone knows of your skills as a healer. You’ve helped so much and many are appreciative that the Dark Lord has someone so skilled to attend him. They say that when the war is finally over, your name will be among those exalted in credit.”

The words did not have the desired effect. “I’m only a healer.” Hermione said simply. “Anyone can do what I do, and I certainly do not deserve any credit towards the victory. And I still don’t know your name.”

The girl blinked and blushed, the pink tinge to her cheeks displaying her youth. “I’m sorry. I’m Analyse, Ana.”

Hermione did smile then. “It’s good to meet you. Are your parents here?” The curiosity building about the young girls’ origins egged her questions on.

“Oh no, my parents don’t hold the status to be here.” Then as if realizing the slur against her parents, Ana’s brows furrowed. “I only mean they serve the Dark Lord in other ways.”

Hermione nodded. “And how long have you and Braxton been together?”

As if it was a secret that no one was meant to know, Ana’s eyes grew wide and flitted nervously towards where Draco and Braxton were still conversing. Then they returned to Hermione and after a moment, the girl stepped closer.

“Do you love Mr. Malfoy?”

The innocence question caught Hermione off guard, not quite understanding what relevance it held. But it also unnerved her and brought the internal struggle of her growing feelings for Draco to the surface.

“In a way.” She said finally, choosing her words carefully.

The girl’s expression fell at this and she almost looked disappointed. “Oh. I only thought that… you see with your marriage occurring so quickly, so many of us thought that it must have been a match made for love, not for tradition.” Her eyes once again flicked over to Braxton and Hermione saw the longing there.

Remembering Draco’s stories of being betrothed since a young age, Hermione understood at once the young girl’s disappointment at finding out that Draco’s marriage may have only been one of pureblooded standards.

“We went to school together you know.” Hermione said, surprising herself. Her resolve to not get close to anyone during her undercover work slipping a bit with the innocence of the young girl in front of her. She couldn’t imagine how difficult it would be for someone like her. Obviously of lower class in the Dark Lord’s standards, but in love with a man of seemingly high regard. Braxton was likely already promised to some other prominent witch, though the way he looked at Ana made it obvious who his choice would be.

“Not in the same house at Hogwarts but Draco and I had several classes together, we were somewhat rivals.” Hermione added with a small smile.

Ana seemed to hang on everyone of Hermione’s words, searching for the love story that would justify her and Braxton’s relationship.

“But what happened after school?” She asked Hermione. “I mean it was common knowledge that Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Parkinson were intended to be together. And then you married so quickly?”

“Yes we did. We hadn’t seen each other in years after school but then things happened very quickly when we crossed paths again.” Hermione met the girl’s eyes directly. “If you want something badly enough, you’ll find a way to make it work.”

Though Hermione had very little understanding of pureblood traditions, and she truly had no place offering advice to this young woman, the light that appeared in the blue eyes was enough to make it worth it.

Hermione looked over and found that Draco was watching her intently, only half listening to what Braxton was saying next to him as he wondered silently what she wanted badly enough to risk everything for.

***

Hours later, Draco and Hermione stepped around bodies sprawled about the Manor as they moved upstairs. Voldemort had retired earlier to the chamber that Draco’s parents had once occupied. Bellatrix had followed him smugly, closing the door firmly behind them.

Trying to be gracious hosts, Draco and Hermione had tried to interact with the Death Eaters, only when Hermione yawned for the umpteenth time did Draco excuse them. There was still music drifting up the stairs from the ballroom but the majority of the group had either returned to their own homes or found a place within the Manor to claim as their own.

It felt odd entering his room instead of hers and Hermione stood just inside the door looking around at the semi-familiar surroundings. Having entered the room and easily busied himself taking off the coat and expensive watch he had dawned earlier, Draco hadn’t noticed her hesitancy until he had turned around and found her still standing near the door.

“You can come in Granger.” He said, amused at her hesitation.

Hermione blinked and looked at him. “I know.” But she didn’t move.

Sighing, Draco crossed the room to her and took her hand, slipping the ring from her finger and pressing it into her palm. “You’re tired. I’m tired. It’s just a bedroom.”

She raised her brows at him and her deep brown eyes met his. “It’s your room.”

Shrugging, he furrowed his brows. “We’ve slept in your room before.”

“Yes, but this is your childhood bedroom Draco. Surely there are things here you don’t want me to see.” She was searching for a reason to feel uncomfortable and was failing miserably.

Laughing slightly, Draco tugged on her hand to pull her further into the room. “Trust me Granger, there’s nothing from my childhood left in here that I would care if you saw. Besides, I’m sure you explored every inch when I trapped you in here before.”

The warmth of his hand around her spread like a warm wave up her arm. “No witch playboy magazines beneath your mattress?” She asked, smiling slightly. “I didn’t check there.”

His brows furrowed in confusion, having never heard of the muggle magazine. Hermione shook her head at his expression and laughed.

“Never mind.” She glanced around the room again. “I don’t suppose you grabbed any of my other clothes?”

He hadn’t. “Then can I borrow something to sleep in tonight? And tomorrow I can get some of my things to store in here.”

A small voice in his head wanted to tell her to sleep without them, and the thought of her warm, naked body in his bed made blood rush south. He cleared his throat and nodded. “Sure. I’ve got extra toiletries in the bathroom as well so help yourself and I’ll find something for you.”

“Thanks.” Hermione said, their eyes meeting for a minute before she slipped past him to the bathroom.

He really did have everything she would need, Hermione found with appreciation. The marble bathroom was huge, almost twice the size of the one in her own room and she made herself busy brushing her teeth and washing her face.

Draco knocked after a few minutes and handed her some clothes.

“I’m done.” Hermione said, gesturing for him to enter. “I’ll change out here and you can have the bathroom.”

They switched places and Hermione took the clothes to the side of the bed, shimmying out of the grey dress and laying it carefully across the back of one of the chairs near the large windows. Moving quickly she unclasped her bra and pulled on the shirt Draco had given her. A laugh from the bathroom door made her glance up and she found Draco standing there, eyes light as he looked at her.

“What?” She asked, tugging at the hem of the shirt self-consciously, though she had changed into the dress in front of him without a problem. The shirt was obviously his and was large enough to cover the tops of her thighs.

Draco shook his head, strolling into the room in only his pajama pants. “Oh nothing, Slytherin green just might be your color though.” He remembered how she had looked in the Weasel’s shirt and a sense of happiness came over him seeing her in his.

Hermione glanced down at the shirt she was wearing and rolled her eyes when she saw the emblem of the Slytherin quidditch team on the front. Draco was smiling slightly when she met his eyes again and she defiantly pulled on the baggy sleeping pants, tying them tightly around her waist.

“And I’m just so sure you didn’t have any other shirts available.” She said mockingly.

He shrugged. “None that would look this good.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione threw some of the throw pillows that had been placed artistically on the bed to the floor. Pulling the covers back she slid beneath them, huffing a bit as she wiggled against the plush mattress to get comfortable. Looking up she found Draco watching her with an odd expression.

“What?” She asked for the second time.

After a moment, he blinked and shook his head. Not replying, he got into bed and extinguished the lights. Hermione let her eyes adjust to the darkness and lay in silence for a moment. She could hear the sound of water from outside and knew that the giant fountain in the backyard was still going. The urge to speak her racing thoughts was overwhelming, a trait that had defined her as a know it all in the past. Finally sighing, she rolled to her side and tried to make out his figure in the dark.

“I can feel you looking at me Granger.” Draco’s voice found her in the dark.

Hermione paused before speaking. “He’s afraid. Actually afraid.”

Immediately understanding her reference, Draco rolled onto his own side. It was disconcerting that the Dark Lord was residing once again in his house, only several doors down, and Draco was here discussing his weakness with an Order member. He almost wanted to brush away her comment, to turn away from her and sleep.

Instead he looked past her towards the windows. “I know. I don’t think it will be long now.”

After another moment, Hermione spoke again, quieter this time as if the walls were listening. “I think I’m afraid too.”

Her honesty came easily in the dark, where they couldn’t see each other, where their vulnerability was hidden by the shadows.

“I know.” He repeated, though he wouldn’t say that he was afraid too.

“The Order needs to act soon,” She said, letting her thoughts spill out into the silence. “We did what we set out to do to get him out of the caves, to have him nervous. If they don’t act soon, we will have lost our chance. I tried to speak to Harry about it, but he says that they still don’t have enough people.”

Draco propped himself up on an elbow and huffed. “Potter should know better than anyone that it only takes a few.”

“He does. But I think everyone is beginning to feel that the end is getting closer, and it’s daunting. As bad as life has been for them, if we lose it will be worse. People just want to protect themselves and their families.”

Draco thought of his own family and the lengths he would have gone to protect them. But they were gone now, and he was alone, without fear for his own existence. He was afraid for her though, afraid of the existence she would face if they lost.

Instead of continuing speaking, Draco reached for her, pulling her small, warm body to him as if an invitation of protection. She came appreciatively to him, nestling against the warmth of his bare chest as his strong arms came around her. The silk sheets settled over them like water and they lay in silence, the sound of Draco’s heart beating in her ear.

“That shirt really does look good on you.” Draco’s said after several minutes, earning a laugh from Hermione.

After another moment of silence, Hermione leaned back from his chest and looked up at him, her features just barely visible in the dark. “Do you want it back?”

It was an invitation; one that he gladly accepted. Moving together under the silk sheets they held each other, brought each other to the peak and back. And later as Hermione slept, her head pillowed on his upper arm, Draco promised her his protection, for as long as he had to give it.

(but grey) 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Rereading this I've found that apparently my recent reading of historical novels is seeping over into how I think the high society of Death Eaters act and talk :') Sorry for the hoity toity language, but I'm pretty sure they are snobbish enough to talk like that.  
> Edit: So the next chapter I have started is going to be a pretty long one. Would you guys prefer if I posted two separate chapters, or one big one? Maybe it doesn't matter but I'm curious :)


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know what you're thinking; two chapters in one week?! Trust me, I'm surprised too. Hopefully it's not too much of a disappointment ;) The next chapter should be up by the weekend depending on how motivated I can get.

The sun was barely rising over the horizon when Hermione woke the next morning. She had slept like the dead and felt surprisingly well rested as she stretched out in the massive bed. A quick glance over her shoulder showed Draco still deeply asleep, lying on his back, his face looking more relaxed than she had seen in… years.

The urge to wake him up and continue what they had been doing the night before was tempting, but she knew he needed the sleep. Silently, she slipped from the silk sheets and tiptoed across the room to the bathroom. The movement of her naked body in the large mirror over the sink caught her attention and she paused to look at herself. There was still evidence of bruising from their ordeal with Voldemort, but it was fading quickly with the bruise paste she had administered.

But there was something else about her that she had to take a moment to recognize; she was happy. In an odd sort of way, and in a completely inappropriate time be so, she was happy. Even with the world crumbling around her and the fight to survive becoming more and more imminent, she had found something that was all hers.

Her eyes were brighter than they had been in a long time, her cheeks had a pink tinge that had been wiped out by the many years of defeat. She looked healthier than she had in a long time and found it amusing that even with all of her medical knowledge, the thing that had helped her was nothing she could have prescribed herself.

Smiling to herself, she turned and busied herself getting ready.

The lack of clothing proved to be more of an immediate issue and after showering, Hermione resigned herself to rummage through Draco’s extensive wardrobe. Finally settling on a dark blue button up shirt that swamped her figure and a pair of black silk pajama pants, she dressed, taking care to replace the rings that she had removed the night before. Praying that their guests were still fast asleep after their late partying the night before, Hermione opened the door and looked warily up and down the hallway.

There were three Death Eaters passed out on the floor, pillows that Hermione recognized from the library couches were propped under their heads. Moving quietly, she slipped around them and made her way downstairs.

The Manor was silent as she went, and she was careful not to disturb the various bodies that seemed to litter any open space. Hermione couldn’t imagine that similar circumstances were allowed when Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy had hosted Voldemort all those years ago. Then his ranks had held more sophisticated members of the wizarding world who would have never slept on the floor. But now after years of recruitment, quantity seemed to matter more than quality. As long as they were loyal, Hermione thought ruefully to herself as she moved through the hall.

Having expected the kitchen to be as quiet as the rest of the house, Hermione stepped back in surprise as a pot whizzed by her face upon entering the room. Though quietly, the soft bangs of pots and pans filled the pristine space. At least half a dozen house elves scurried about, snapping their fingers to command the dishes being prepared.

Hermione watched with wide eyed amazement at the efficiency with which the elves saw to their tasks. She forgot for a moment why she had even come down in the first place when there came a slight tug at the hem of her shirt. Startled, Hermione glanced down to find Kildy staring up at her with wide eyes.

“Misses, Kildy apologizes for not attending to you in the dining room. What can Kildy assist Misses with?”

Having broken through the elf’s etiquette a month ago and convinced her to at least call her Miss Hermione, it was odd to be addressed so formally from the elf.

“No, no, Kildy don’t trouble yourself. I’m just getting coffee.” Hermione replied.

The elf looked warry for a moment as if she was unsure of what to make of Hermione. “Oh, Kildy can bring that to Misses in the dining room if she pleases. It is much more comfortable.”

Feeling a bit confused, Hermione furrowed her brows at the elf. Hermione never ate in the dining room finding it much to formal, always choosing the island in the kitchen for her meals. The elf started to look fearful at the silence when it hit Hermione; Kildy didn’t know who she was. She only knew Mrs. Malfoy as Hermione, not Olivia.

Dropping down to squat in front of the elf, Hermione shook her head quickly and reached out to touch Kildy’s arm which caused her to flinch.

“Kildy it’s me, Hermione.” She said quietly, hoping none of the other elves heard the exchange.

For a moment Kildy was silent but then, if possible, the elf’s eyes grew even wider as she stared back at Hermione.

“Miss Hermione?” She asked with amazement as if she had never seen someone change their appearance. “But you..?”

“It’s me. I’m sorry we should have told you about this. I look different around company, like this.” She gestured to her changed appearance. “Kildy the people here don’t know who I really am, they CAN’T know who I really am.” She added, making sure to emphasize the word.

At once Kildy began to nod with earnest. “Oh miss, Kildy was frightened that the Dark Lord had hurt miss when she didn’t see miss with Master Draco last night. Kildy was so very angry at the woman with icy eyes who had taken Miss Hermione’s place.”

Hermione smiled as the elf spoke, feeling a warmth at the elf’s devotion to her. “It’s always been me, and I’m sure you can understand how important it is that this is the only version of me that these people know about.”

Kildy nodded once again, the cap on her head bouncing wildly. “Of course, miss. Kildy understands.”

Hermione smiled gratefully. “Thank you. And my name is Olivia when I look like this.” She paused and found the irony in what she was about to ask after the months of convincing Kildy otherwise. “And I think it would be safer for you to address me as Mistress Malfoy when these people are here.”

Without missing a beat, the elf nodded again. “Kildy understands. Now Mistress wanted coffee?”

Hermione laughed slightly and stood. “Yes, thank you.”

At once the elf snapped her fingers and a steaming cup of black liquid appeared in front of Hermione. Grateful, she took the cup and thanked the elf, wishing she could stay in the kitchen to watch them work but knew that she would only be in the way. Instead, she made her way back up the stairs to the only place she knew for sure there wouldn’t be any guests.

Shutting the door quietly behind her, she glanced over at the bed and was relieved to see that Draco was still sleeping. Feeling the itch of not being in her own skin, she left the ring on the nightstand before moving across the room. Opening the door to the large balcony, she summoned one of the wingback chairs to follow her silently out onto the marble terrace.

Drawing her knees up against the cold weather, Hermione settled herself onto the chair, enjoying the very faint glow that was appearing over the tall hedges lining the property. Oddly, she realized that she didn’t even know where the Manor was located in England, hadn’t thought to ask as the only method of transportation had been magical. Making a point to ask Draco later, she sipped the still hot beverage and let her mind wander.

There was a sheen of frost over the grass below and Hermione’s breath and the steam of the coffee was visible in the chilly air. Shivering, she cast a warming spell around herself, settling back into the sudden warmth that enveloped her.

The sky was a bright yellow-orange when she sensed a presence at her side. Started she looked up and found a mussy looking Draco standing next to her chair. His blond hair was standing on all ends and he rubbed his palm of his eyes. He had thoughtfully put on a soft looking sweatshirt before coming out into the cold.

Seeing him gave her a similar warm feeling that she had felt earlier with Kildy, though this time for a very different reason.

“Morning.” She said with a slight smile.

“Morning.” He replied without looking down at her, still rubbing at his eyes against the growing light.

“Coffee?” Hermione asked, handing up the still half full cup she held.

He did look down at her then, brows furrowed above his slightly puffy eyes. “Coffee? When did you get coffee?” He knew her morning habit of slipping down to the kitchen for the brew but had thought that she had more sense than this.

“This morning?” His tone made her confused, as if she had done something wrong.

“You went downstairs?” She nodded and he took a deep, exasperated breath. “I don’t want you wandering the house alone with them here.”

Logically it immediately made sense and she understood his tone, but the independent side of her brain protested. “I wore the ring, don’t worry. And technically I am Mrs. Malfoy, and technically I do live here. Why wouldn’t I be able to walk around my own house?”

Still looking annoyed, he narrowed his eyes at her. “Because it’s not your house, it’s mine. And before you start,” He held up a hand at the protests that rose to her lips. “You technically married into the family and in this world, possessions stay with the husband.”

Raising her brows in indignation, Hermione huffed. “Well that’s barbaric.”

“Yes it is.” Draco replied easily. “But it’s how things are done, and some of those people are very traditional with pretty barbaric beliefs.”

“So your mother wasn’t even allowed to walk around her own house?” Hermione asked, feeling the need to defend the rights of her gender.

His grey eyes darkened as they looked down at her, even as the sun glinted off of them. “Of course she was. As horrible as my father was, he loved her. At least he used to. She was Mistress Malfoy through and through.”

Seeing the furrow of his brows thinking about his parents and the way that his eyes seemed to see through her, Hermione remained silent. She knew this wasn’t the world she was raised in; wasn’t even the world she would want to live in. But it was his world and as long as she was pretending to be his wife, it was hers too.

“Okay, so I won’t go around the house.” She agreed simply, letting her annoyance go.

Draco focused on her face once again and let out a breath. “Thank you.”

She nodded and held up the cup again in silent invitation which he accepted. Hermione watched as he took a long sip of the luke-warm coffee, speaking just as he lowered the cup with a grimace.

“You know I wouldn’t do anything to compromise our position, don’t you?”

He looked up at her sharply, but Hermione watched as his eyes immediately softened as he looked at her. Sighing, he looked away and took a few steps to stand at the smooth white railing, looking over the lawn towards the sun that was now fully visible over the hedge rows.

“I’m not worried about you compromising anything.” He said after a moment, his long fingers running over the smooth porcelain in his hand.

“But you are worried about something?” She prompted, feeling disproportionately awake next to his zombie-like state.

It felt like eternity before he moved, turning around to lean his hips against the stone behind him. He looked like a Greek god against the rising sun, the paleness of his face and hair outlined by the bright light. The intensity of his dark grey eyes though was what made the breath hitch in her throat. He shook his head slightly.

“I’m worried about you Hermione. I’m worried that you’ll be walking through the library and the time limit will come up on that ring of yours and everyone will see who you truly are. I’m worried that Kildy will call you ‘Miss Hermione’ as you’ve so painstaking convinced her to do so. I’m worried that my aunt will recognize something that you do that is so innately Hermione Granger that she’ll know and torture you on the ballroom floor again. But it won’t end there, oh no. After you’re found out they will hurt you in every way possible. You’ve seen what they’ve done to Death Eaters who’ve made mistakes, now imagine what would happen to an Order member.”

His grey eyes flashed and he tossed the empty coffee cup to the floor, not seeming to even register the smash of glass that followed though it made Hermione jump. She watched him with wide eyes as he continued.

“I imagine they’ll give you to Greyback, he’s always was obsessed with you. And he’ll do Godric knows what to you, actually I’m sure you can imagine, as can I. Then when he’s done with you, if he hasn’t killed you yet, you’ll be free for any of them to do as they will, hurt you as they please.”

He paused and crossed the short distance to stand in front of her, bending to place his hands on either of the arms of the chair, face inches from hers. “Finally, it’ll be Voldemort’s turn and he relishes inflicting pain to the point where you’ll be begging for him to kill you. And I will have to witness all of it. They will force me to watch as you are brought within an inch of your life. Then they will kill you, right in front of me, to punish you… and to punish me.”

She couldn’t speak, her lips parted slightly as she drew in shallow breaths, heart pounding at the graphic descriptions he painted of her demise. His expression was as cold as his tone had been. Blinking she searched his face, trying to recognize any piece of the Draco that she had come to care about. 

Knowing she had to force it out, she raised shaky hands and cupped his face. Swallowing hard, she shook her head never letting her eyes leave his. 

“None of that is going to happen.” She said, trying to keep her voice firm even thought it sounded small and scared to her.

For a moment he simply stared at her, then emotion flickered in his stony eyes and he let out a breath. “But it might,” he said. “And that is why I am worried.”

Recognizing the emotion that had briefly broken through his defenses as pain, Hermione furrowed her brows before leaning forward and pressing her lips against his. He didn’t respond initially, simply letting her warm lips press against his before his cold façade broke and he gripped her, kissing her back with fervor.

The intensity of the kiss was surprising, and Hermione pushed up to knees on the chair to be at a more accessible level for his bent form. His hands were gripping her tightly, digging into the skin at her waist. He kissed her like he needed to reassure himself that she was real, that she wasn’t dead and broken on the ballroom floor like his imagination had shown him.

Hermione’s arms went around his neck as he stood fully, bringing her with him as he held her tight. She had to stand on her toes to even compete with his height, but his impatient urgency had him lifting her, hands gripping her arse as she wrapped her legs around his hips. A rush of cold swept over her as she left the bubble of her warming charm, instead replaced by an entirely different heat.

He walked them through the glass doors back into the bedroom, hovering over her as he lowered them to the bed.

Hermione breathlessly pulled away at the sensation of the mattress beneath her. Draco’s lips had moved to trail down her jaw to her throat and she pulled him back so she could look at his face. His grey eyes looked down at her warm brown ones, the openness there making her heart studder.

The warmth she had felt earlier was amplified by ten at the trust she saw reflected back at her. Smiling slightly she ran her fingers over the stubbled on his cheek. “I worry about you too.”

It was a simple, innocent thing to say, but the admission of their mutual worry was just about as intimate as admitting their feelings for each other. The corner of his lips twitched which caused Hermione’s grin to widen. As much as his mouth wasn’t used to the shape, Draco couldn’t help but to smile back at her, shaking his head before she brought her lips back up to his again.

Just as he started to deepen the kiss again, she pulled away slightly.

“We should get up.” She whispered against his lips, eyes still closed.

Draco rolled his eyes and kissed the corner of her mouth, “Granger if you hadn’t already noticed, I’m already up.”

She laughed and shook her head, very much aware of the hardness of him pressed against her inner thigh. “Not what I meant.”

He groaned and dropped his forehead to hers. Hermione smiled again and ran her fingers through his hair. “We have guests to host Master Malfoy.” She teased.

He closed his eyes for a moment, relishing the feeling of her warm body pressed against his for just a moment more. She was right, as usual, he thought as he remembered the many Death Eaters currently camped out in his family home. The ache at his groin screamed that they could wait, but the logical side of him bristled at the thought of leaving his home alone with them.

Sighing, he pushed up and off of her, standing at the edge of the bed. Hermione propped herself up on her elbows as he looked down at her.

“Fine.” He said with resignation. After another moment, he let his eyes sweep appreciatively down her prone form which did not help the screaming from his appendage. Meeting her eyes again, he gave her a ruthless smile. “I have to say my clothes suit you, Granger.”

***

When he had showered and dressed, Draco escorted her across the hall to her own room. He had rolled his eyes at her insistence that she get her own clothes, especially when she looked so delectable in the oversized ones she was already wearing. Like a present that he itched to unwrap.

The hallway was empty now and Hermione’s nerves prickled to know that other people were now awake in the Manor.

Her bedroom was seemingly untouched with the aid of Draco’s sealing it the other night. Quickly she went to the wardrobe, throwing several sets of clothes into Draco’s waiting arms before changing into a more practical pair of dark grey trousers and deep maroon blouse that she tucked neatly into the pants. Not taking the time to appreciate the fit of the outfit, Hermione helped Draco stuff the other clothes into the beaded bag.

Leaving the bag in Draco’s room, they made their way downstairs, fully expecting to fall into the role of Master and Mistress of the Manor. If the stakes hadn’t been so high, Hermione would have found amusement at playing make believe as an adult.

However when they reached the hallway, they were met with only silence. Confused at the very different environment now compared to the night before, Draco looked into the ballroom to find it empty, as if they had simply imagined the chaos.

Hermione made her own way around the various rooms, finding them empty as well. As Draco looked into his study and Hermione opened the door to the large dining room. A quick movement and an exclamation of “Granger!”, had her squeaking in surprise and stumbling backwards.

Hearing the noise, Draco came rushing back out to the hallway to find Hermione being helped up from the floor where she had stumbled to by Theodore Nott. Concerned and confused, he rushed to their side just as Theo got Hermione to her feet.

“Theo what the hell are you doing here?” Draco asked as he watched his best friend give a charming smile and half bow to Hermione.

The man turned his deep green eyes in Draco’s direction, “Why yes, Draco, it is lovely to see you again. Thank you for welcoming me graciously into your home. No, it doesn’t feel at all like it’s been months since we last spoke.”

Draco rolled his eyes at the dramatized greeting. “Fine. Good to see you. Now what are you doing here? Not exactly the best time for a social call.”

Theo raised his brows and dug into his coat pocket, producing an elegant white envelope with flourish which he held up in front of Draco. “Actually from what I hear, this is the perfect time for a social call. Or at least that’s what your invitation sounds like.”

“What invitation?” Draco asked as he was handed the paper.

Opening it, Draco unfolded the beautifully embossed paper, his grey eyes growing colder as he read. Hermione wanted to snatch the paper from him to alleviate the burning curiosity that rose within her, but she waited patiently, brows furrowed as a wash of anger swept over Draco’s face.

“A party? Are you kidding me?” He asked Theo, handing the paper to Hermione without a glance.

“Aw, I thought you’d be more excited as you’re the one hosting it. And the invite says gala, not party so I expect you to dress accordingly.” Theo said, the playfulness in his voice a stark contrast to the anger in Draco’s.

“A Christmas gala, held in honor of the Dark Lord’s reign at Malfoy Manor.” Hermione read aloud from the deep gold writing that ordained the invitation.

“Well I’m glad to see my suspicions that you would know nothing about this were correct.” Theo said, looking between the two bewildered people in front of him. “I was a bit surprised myself to receive the invite this morning, considering how-” he paused as if trying to find the appropriate word, “-inconvenient hosting guests would be for you right now.”

His pointed look at Hermione was not lost on either of them but Hermione was still feeling a bit bewildered.

“It’s already Christmas.” She said, not knowing where the time had gone. It felt like a lifetime since she first arrived at the Manor and made a deal with Draco. A lifetime where everything had changed for them both.

“Yes, Happy Christmas. Or Christmas Eve rather. So don’t worry, you’ve still got the day to find me a present.” Theo said cheerily with a wink at Draco, clearly enjoying himself.

“Who sent these out?” Draco asked, his tone still cold as he flipped the envelope over in his hands to examine it.

Theo shrugged. “Probably one of the Dark Lord’s lackies. Pansy’s family got one too, as I’m sure every other high status family did. I guess I’m not surprised that you would be the last to hear with how he seems to run things these days.”

Annoyed, Draco ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes briefly. “What the Dark Lord wants…” He said with a defeated sigh, then opened his eyes to look at Hermione.

“That’s probably why he was here last night, making an entrance back into society to stave off any rumors that he’s been hiding. Using my name to reassert his presence in the pureblooded community makes it feel as though he never left the Manor the last time. We were right when we thought he was on the move to protect himself, though wrong about his intention to hide.”

“And holding a party in his honor is his way of protecting himself?” Hermione asked, brows furrowed. Voldemort wasn’t stupid, in fact he was one of the most brilliant wizards of their time. So the thought that he would put himself in such a vulnerable position was confusing to her.

“Oh he’ll only likely be there for the first part of the evening.” Draco said with a scoff remembering all of the other gatherings that had been held over the past several years. “But as long as it’s in his honor and he makes an appearance, the wizarding world is reminded once again who is in charge.”

Logically it made sense, but Hermione’s anxiety was peaked for a completely different reason. “But how does he expect us to plan an entire Christmas party for what appears to be hundreds of guests in a single day.”

Something about her question but have amused the two men as they looked at each other and then at her with a smile that one might give a child.

“Oh Granger,” Theo said reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder. “Sweet, innocent, little Granger.”

Hermione huffed at his tone and shook off his hand causing Theo to laugh.

“ _We_ don’t have to do anything.” Draco said with a slight twitch of his lips as if he were hiding a condescending smile. “My mother would plan and host extravagant parties almost on a weekly basis when I was growing up. And she never had to lift a finger.”

Still confused, Hermione raised her brows at him in an annoyed invitation to continue.

“House elves, Granger.” Theo interjected helpfully. “They’ve got the process down to a T. You just hire one of the planners and they bring a tidy little crew to get everything ready while you lounge with the peacocks.”

If possible, her brows rose higher. “There are party planning house elves?”

“If you can think of a service, there is likely a house elf for it.” Draco said with a shrug. “They really do have quite the monopoly on household necessities.”

Shocked at the new revelation that there was an entire community of paid, working house elves that wizards would hire, Hermione blinked and looked taken aback.

“Not all house elves are slaves.” Theo said with a slight twinkle in his eye. “And you thought you were saving them from a life of depravity with your little Spew organization.”

Draco held back a grin as Hermione turned her icy glare on Theo. “Well forgive me for growing up ignorant in a muggle world. And it’s S.P.E.W.” She added with a clipped tone.

In truth she hadn’t thought about S.P.E.W. in a long time. Those days were simpler ones, where her main concern was the protection of house elf rights that as it turned out, she didn’t even have to fight for in the first place. Now she was fighting for her own freedom, and the freedom of those who would dare be anything other than a pureblood.

A clatter of noise broke her commemoration, making the three of them turn quickly towards the ballroom. It seems as if they truly wouldn’t have to do anything for preparation as a large group of house elves apparated into the Manor, each of them floating armloads of Christmas décor about them. One house elf was obviously in charge as she directed the others, a large roll of parchment held in front of her.

Hermione watched in amazement as more elves arrived, each going immediately to work. It was a flurry of activity as they spread about the house, barely acknowledging the three humans standing among them. Garlands were stretched across the banisters, lit expertly with softly glowing orbs of light. Three elves appeared, supporting a large evergreen tree above them that they carted into the ballroom. Hermione was reminded immediately of Hogwarts at Christmas time.

“How did they even know we needed them?” She said quietly, as if any louder noise would alert the elves to their presence and cause them fright.

Draco looked down at her with a slight smile. “Magic, Granger.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Told you I'm taking every opportunity to dress these guys up. If only you could see the amount of beautiful dresses adorning my pinterest board. Stay tuned for a Pansy reoccurrence in the next chapter!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so much fun to write (and I mean fun as in exciting and drama filled, not fun to put Hermione through things). I've got some pictures for you at the bottom :D  
> Again, triggers for sexual assault in this chapter so reader beware.

For once, Hermione didn’t feel over her head when getting ready for one of the Death Eater parties. Each time she had had Kildy helping her with the assistance of Pansy for outfit selection. This time she was on her own. The process of choosing clothes that she never would have chosen for herself was getting easier, like playing dress-up in her mother’s closet.

Draco had told her to take the rest of the afternoon to get ready, something she found humorous as it was obvious what he thought about her ability to get dressed up. But she hadn’t protested, even though she knew that he would not be taking the rest of the afternoon to get ready.

She smiled to herself as she pulled the dress from the closet and hung it carefully on the bed canopy, feeling quite happy with her choice. Determined to prove her abilities at getting ready, she took her time. To make sure that what she was doing actually looked good as a finished product, she wore the ring as she got ready.

It was strange sitting down at a mirror and not seeing your normal reflection staring back at you. Instead of her brown eyes, there was blue; strait black instead of curly brown hair. It took her a moment to adjust to the site before she brushed aside any discomfort and began.

As she tried hairstyle after hairstyle, her appreciation for Kildy’s quick work and skill grew immensely. By the time she had fashioned a sleek chignon at the back of her head, she was cursing the tiny pins poking her scalp. It would just have to do, Hermione thought as she turned her head to and fro in the mirror, though she had to admit that it didn’t look terrible.

The makeup was a bit trickier as she had never had the occasion to apply it previously. Even at the Yule Ball Lavender had been the one to sit Hermione down to slather and powder her face to oblivion. She tried to remember what Lavender had done that night but had to make do with experimentation.

In the end, the look she achieved was quite neutral; dark brown and gold across her lids with a lipstick that was just a shade deeper than her lips. For the effort she had put in, it didn’t look especially extravagant. But her dress would hold enough sparkle that she didn’t feel amiss keeping it off her face.

The dress required a bit of spell work to fit perfectly, and she felt somewhat giddy with the beauty of it. It was a deep green, fitting for a Christmas party, but nothing else was suggestive of a tame, family get together. It hugged her body down to mid-thigh, sat low over her breasts and dipped deep across her back.

It was beaded in an intricate, geometric pattern, the deep gold and green sequins catching the light with every movement she made. It probably cost more than she had in her vault at Gringotts right now and knowing that Draco had probably given whoever had stocked her wardrobe an unlimited budget made her a bit uncomfortable wearing it. But also excited as it was likely the most expensive thing she would ever wear.

The overall picture made quite the site, she thought as she spun in front of the large mirror at the end of the closet, though she almost wished she could look like herself. Just as she put the finishing charms on her hair to hold it in place, a soft knock sounded at the door. Immediately on alert, Hermione double checked that the illusion still held before crossing the room to answer it.

Pansy stood on the other side, practically bouncing with pent up excitement. Her eyes widened when she saw Hermione, widened more when she saw the dress.

“Bloody hell, Granger. Are you trying to give Draco a heart attack?” She asked, her wide eyes flicking up to meet Hermione’s.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione reached out to tug the other woman into the room, hearing music coming up from below. She certainly had taken her time.

“Draco sent me up here to fetch you.” Pansy said, still in awe of Hermione’s ensemble. “Though I’m glad you took your time if this is the finished result. You look amazing.”

The compliment made Hermione flush and she felt immediately better knowing that her hard work had paid off. Or at least that she didn’t look like a clown.

“So do you.” She replied, taking her own appreciative look of Pansy’s getup.

Where the dress Pansy had worn at her father’s ball had been flouncy and bright, the deep purple velvet gown made the black-haired witch look regal. Her hair was curled around her face though looked as sleek as a waterfall. Having finally found a solution to manage her own curls, Hermione had more appreciation for the waves Pansy was sporting.

“Naturally.” Pansy replied with a good-hearted grin. “Now, let’s go. I want to see the look on Draco’s face when he sees you.”

Pansy’s comments didn’t go unnoticed and Hermione wondered just how much the other witch knew of her and Draco’s relationship. She didn’t risk asking just in case she knew nothing, but the bouncy excitement exuding from the witch as she led Hermione from the room suggested otherwise. 

The music grew louder as they made their way down the hall, that and the sound of talking. Immediately Hermione felt guilty as she was supposed to have been with Draco to greet the guests, though she supposed that her lack of poise would have likely caused more problems.

By the crowd of people at the bottom of the stairs, she could only assume that almost everyone had arrived. A few of them looked up at their descent and the looks on their faces made Hermione want to hide back in her room. Pansy led her through the throng of people, searching out Theo and Draco. As they through, Hermione recognized many of their Hogwarts classmates, all Slytherin of course.

Draco and Theo were stationed by the door, greeting the latecomers as they came in. They both looked dapper in their tuxedos, though Hermione couldn’t take her eyes off Draco as he extended a hand to an older gentleman in greeting. His cordial smile was that of the perfect gentleman, though Hermione could tell how bored he was by the look in his eyes.

As the guests moved past them, Draco leaned over to say something to Theo and that’s when he caught sight of Hermione. She would have laughed if she hadn’t just felt similarly seeing him. Pansy did laugh though, grinning madly at Draco’s wide eyes and slightly parted mouth.

Looping her arm through Hermione’s, she guided them closer to the men.

“Close your mouth Draco, it’s unsightly.” Pansy said with a raised brow and a grin. Theo was trying to stifle a laugh as well, pressing his knuckles against his lips. 

As if coming back to himself, Draco blinked and cleared his throat, looking between his grinning friends. Shaking his head, he straitened his cuff and met Hermione’s eyes. She smiled at the warmth in his grey eyes, warmth she found was only present when she was around.

“You look nice.” She said with a smile, taking a step forward to adjust the bowtie at his throat though it was perfectly strait.

Draco felt like he couldn’t form words with her so close and looking like she did. If it weren’t for the fact that her face was not Hermione’s, he didn’t think he would be able to stop himself from taking her in his arms. And then taking her elsewhere so he could tear the dress off of her.

“And you look…” he paused, trying to find the right words as his eyes took her in. “Magical.”

Hermione met his eyes with a wide grin, quite enjoying his use of the word. His mouth twitched upwards at a corner before he took her arm and turned her around so she was at his side. Theo and Pansy watched them, standing together, both with dopey grins on their faces.

Draco looked over Hermione’s head at his friend. “Thanks for the help Theo, but I think my wife and I can handle things now.”

“Oh yeah,” Pansy exclaimed excitedly. “I forgot you two are married. Oh this is so much better.”

Draco gave her a stern look which she returned with a deviant one of her own. “Don’t worry, Drakie. We know the rules.”

Looping her arm through Theo’s, Pansy drew him away but not without sending a salacious wink over her shoulder at Hermione.

“Whoever invited them is going to pay.” Draco said quietly once they had made their way into the ballroom.

Hermione laughed and looked up at him. “It’ll be fine. They’ve known about me for months and haven’t said anything yet.”

“I’m not worried about them saying anything, I’m worried they’ll annoy me to death.” Draco replied easily.

“Good thing I’m a trained healer.” Hermione said, smiling back at the twitch of his lips as a result of her words. It was getting so easy to get the reaction from him now, though she didn’t enjoy it any less.

Turning her attention back towards the hall, she let herself really look at the decorations for the first time. The elves had outdone themselves, though she had no previous extravagant reverence point to compare to.

It was like a silver bomb had gone off in the Manor. The sconces that hung on the walls shimmered with silvery drapery and tinsel, garland stretched over every doorway and weaved its way down the staircase among the evergreen boughs. Tall, deep green trees sat in every corner, ordained with gold and silver ornaments that sparkled in the tiny, twinkling lights that sat nestled in the branches. It was beautiful, so beautiful that she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

“Close your mouth Granger, it’s unsightly.” Draco said, repeating Pansy’s words with immense enjoyment at her reaction.

“This is beautiful.” Hermione whispered.

“It’ll do.” Draco said simply, though he had to admit that the Manor had never looked this good before. It was more extravagant than anything his mother had ever done, but done with a tasteful elegance.

“I hope you gave the elves a tip.” Hermione said, still staring at the decor.

“A what?”

She smiled slightly and glanced up at him. Wizards didn’t tip; they paid for the exact services and nothing more. “Nothing. Are we expecting anyone else to arrive?”

Looking back at the still open door, Draco shook his head. “No. And any stragglers can find their own way in.”

Grateful that she wouldn’t have to attempt the fancy curtesy of welcoming anyone, Hermione pulled at Draco’s arm. “Then shall we go?” She asked, inclining her head in the direction of the music filled ballroom that was by now crowded to the brim with people.

He paused for a moment to take a long look at her, “One thing first.” Tugging her with him, he led her quickly across the hall and through the door to his study.

Confused at his actions, Hermione protested slightly that they should really join the party. Instead of listening to her, Draco closed the door tightly and spun her around to face him. Not quite understanding what he wanted, Hermione raised her brows in a questioning look and was surprised when he stepped forward and took both her hands in his.

She barely felt the tug on her right ring finger as he slipped the gold band off, but the warmth that spread through his eyes was enough to tell her that she looked like herself again.

“I just wanted to see you.” Draco said, meeting her eyes directly. His voice was quiet, softer than Hermione had ever heard it. “Looking like this.”

She blinked at the words, feeling more seen than she ever had in her entire life. Swallowing against the lump in her throat and keeping her eyes on him, she slowly took a step back from him, holding her arms out at her side as she spun slowly in front of him.

Draco smiled at her movement and allowed his eyes to travel appreciatively over her body, biting the inside of his cheek to keep the dopey grin that threatened to slip out away. He simply wanted to relish this moment, imbed it so deep in his mind that when the Order won, when he was sitting in a cell in Azkaban with dementors draining him, he could look back at this and know that everything had been worth it.

The emotion in his eyes when Hermione turned back to face him surprised her. Stopping her twirl, she took the few steps back towards him, her dress swishing softly around her legs. 

“What is it?” She asked, brows slightly furrowed as he looked down at her.

He opened his mouth slightly as if he were going to say some but then closed it, shaking his head. “Nothing. You’re beautiful.”

Hermione laughed slightly and blushed, not entirely used to the praise. “Olivia looks better.”

He immediately shook his head, eyes flitting up as he smoothed a strand of brown hair back from her face. “No, she doesn’t.” He said simply, letting his eyes once again roam over her face. “But she is necessary.”

Hermione sighed, hating that it was true. Draco held out his hand, the gold ring sitting on his palm which she took and slipped back on her finger. “Yes, she is.”

At her transformation, Draco turned and offered his arm once again. Hermione took in a deep breath, bracing herself for the chaos that they were going to enter. But just as they were about to exit the room Hermione stopped short, her mind racing with the sudden thought she just had.

Draco paused at her hesitation, his hand halfway to the doorknob, and looked back at her. Her eyes were wide but unfocused, as if she had seen a ghost.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Voldemort’s here.” Hermione breathed out, blinking as she looked up at him. An edge of excitement growing inside her.

“Yes, and?” Draco asked, brows coming together in confusion. “He won’t be here for the entire night so don’t worry about spending too much time in his presence.”

“No,” Hermione said, shaking her head. Her eyes seemed slightly wild as she looked up at him. There was a buzzing sense of excitement about her that Draco almost felt physically in her hand that still rested on his arm. “Draco, Voldemort is here. But the snake won’t be.”

She saw the moment he comprehended what she was talking about as his expression went hard and he shook his head at her. “No, Granger. If we aren’t in there it will be seen as a personal front to the Dark Lord. We had to be here, we’re the bloody hosts.”

“No, you have to be here.” She said forcibly. “I don’t. At least not for a little bit. You said it yourself, the only ones these people care about are the husbands in a relationship. They won’t even notice that I’m missing.”

He made an exasperated noise at her using his logic against him. “Granger this party is also you being presented as my wife, your absence will be noted.”

“It wasn’t for during their arrival so I doubt they’ll even think twice. And if someone does ask then tell them I had to help a patient or something.” Hermione pleaded, knowing they were wasting time. “I just need a chance to look around the caves, find out where he keeps the snake when he’s not there. Draco this is what I am here for. This is our opportunity.”

He saw the desperation in her eyes and heard it in her voice. She didn’t need his permission, never would, but they were partners in this and she needed his support. Clenching his jaw, he stared at her for a moment before swearing.

“I’ll give you half an hour. If you’re not back by then I’m coming to look for you.”

She nodded immediately, feeling no joy at the victory she had just won. There was no way to know if the caves would be empty, but at least with the amount of people in the ballroom, there wouldn’t be many. For a moment she considered that the snake might not even be there, but then she knew there was no place that Voldemort would think safer than his underground bunker even thinking that the Order was closing in on him.

“I’ll be quick.” She promised.

“And you only find where it’s kept.” Draco said firmly. “We still don’t have a way to kill it.”

Again Hermione nodded, itching to get going. “I know. Now go, both of us can’t be missing. Just go and be charming and no one will even notice I’m gone.”

Then she turned away from him before he could say anything more, hitching up her dress in her hand as she quickly crossed the room to the fireplace. Taking up floo powder in her free hand, she stepped carefully into the sooty grate. Turning around, she met his eyes one last time before dropping the powder around her and calling out her destination into the flames.

Then she was gone.

***

Her hunch was correct; the caves were completely deserted. Her heart was racing as she left the meeting room that she had been in the one time; the only room with a fireplace. Creeping down the deserted twists and turns of the cave system, Hermione wished immensely that they had spent more time down here so she knew where she was going.

There were large wooden doors that randomly appeared as she turned down the stony hallways. Being as quiet as possible, Hermione would push open the doors only a crack to peer inside the rooms. So many seemed to be living quarters, furnished with a dingy looking bed and other pieces seemingly fashioned from stone. Hermione wondered just how many people actually called this place their home.

Time was passing quickly as she turned down another hallway, making a mental map of the network as she went. In the absence of any sunlight, the hall was lit instead with dim torches that emitted low green light that gave the tunnels an eerie appearance.

After looking in at least twenty different rooms, Hermione sighed. Voldemort wouldn’t simply put his snake in an area that anyone could access, she thought with defeat, it was silly to think that she would be able to find it on her own. Knowing that her time limit from Draco was almost up, she turned a final bend in the tunnel only to find a dead end.

For a moment she stared at the black wall in front of her with growing frustration that quickly morphed into anger. This was the final piece of the puzzle in defeating Voldemort. If they didn’t kill the snake, then any attempt to kill the Dark Lord himself would be futile. It was the final Horcrux and it was Hermione’s job to find it, but she was failing.

Frustrated, she kicked out at the stone floor beneath her, wishing with everything she had that this could all be over. She wished that Voldemort was dead, that the Order was safe, that Draco was safe. But most of all she wished she could find the bloody snake!

It was as if the thought had triggered a shift in the air around her. Hermione’s eyes snapped up and goosebumps prickled on her skin as a rush of wind swept past her. Immediately on guard, Hermione held up her wand as she watched the scene in front of her in amazement.

The black stone wall that had been as solid and formidable as every other wall she had passed on the way began to melt. Black gooey sludge seemed to slip down the surface of the wall but then disappear as soon as it reached the floor. It was disgusting but Hermione held her breath as the sludge slipped away to show a dark stone door in its place.

At the revelation of the door, Hermione almost cried out in joy. This had to be it, had to be where Voldemort kept the snake. With excitement she swept forward, reaching out towards the metal handle. At the last second, she pulled back.

Every other hiding place Voldemort had placed his Horcrux’s in were protected by some sort of dark magic meant to injure any intruders. Hermione’s brows furrowed as she considered the door in front of her, remembering Dumbledore’s blackened hand after putting on the ring, or the feel of fiery metal burning her skin in Bellatrix’s fault.

Raising her wand, she pointed to the door. “ _Revelio_.”

Hoping the spell might reveal some sort of concealed trap on the door, she was disappointed when nothing happened.

She tried another spell. “ _Specialus Revelio_.”

With this one, deep purple sparks flew from the door, causing Hermione to step back with surprise. Her heart dropped at their appearance and she lowered her wand. So the door was protected by some sort of magic, and unfortunately, while the spell was useful in the detection of curses, it didn’t show the specific ones. So Hermione was back where she had started from.

She stared at the door, willing it to open as if it would listen to her like the stone had. When nothing happened, she sighed. As much as she wanted to just reach out and open the door, the possibility of being cursed was not something she wanted to chance.

But this had to be where Nagini was kept; no other place in the cave had this level of enchantments to conceal it. Voldemort went to extra trouble to create this place, just as he went to great ends to protect all his horcruxes. The thought made Hermione feel slightly better. She may not have been able to get into the room now, but when the time came, she knew that she would face any curse to get to the snake, no matter the consequences.

Knowing her time was almost up, Hermione turned away from her discovery and started to retrace her steps towards the room with the fireplace. Having Draco leave the party was not something she wanted to risk, and she knew that he did have a point about her absence being noted.

After several minutes of hurrying along the stone hallways, Hermione turned a corner and gasped as she ran head long into someone. The person’s hands caught her arms to steady her but when Hermione tilted her head up to thank them, her blood ran cold.

Deep yellow eyes gleamed down at her and lips spread into a sickly leer revealing sharp, yellow teeth.

“Hello pet.” Fenir Greyback with sickening joy as he realized just who had stumbled into him.

Before Hermione could even draw a breath, his grip on her arms shifted and he had her pressed up against the wall, hands holding her wrists up on either side of her head. The quick slam of her arms against the wall made her drop her wand, and she listened to it clatter to the stone floor below them. Heart hammering in fear, Hermione pulled at his grip which only tightened in response.

“Now, now, no need to struggle.” The man said as his grin grew wider at her movements, revealing long canine teeth. “So what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a place like this? Princesses should be at the ball you know.”

At this his eyes dropped from her face to wander slowly down her body, taking in the sparkle of her dress that hugged her body, lingering on the dip at her cleavage. She had chosen the dress to impress the high society that was currently present at the gala in the Manor, to impress Draco. But under Greyback’s eyes that tracked every curve of her body, she very well may have been naked.

He gradually raised his gaze again to her face and licked his lips, “And you my love, are indeed a princess.”

Hermione didn’t say anything, tugging at her arms once again. She hated him. Fury and fear mixed together, and she wanted nothing else but to scratch his eyes out.

“Let me go.” She said through gritted teeth.

Fenir smirked as she finally spoke, drawing in a deep breath as he pressed forward against her body so that they were flush together. With his mouth only inches from hers, Hermione could smell the breath that fell on her face and wanted to gag.

“I don’t think I will. Not until you tell me why you’re down here instead of dancing a waltz along with all the other snobs up there.”

“Someone sent for me.” Hermione lied. “I got a message that I was needed, and I was looking for who sent it. I couldn’t find anyone so I was just heading back.”

Greyback raised his brows at her. “Is that right? Funny, as I’m the only one down here you couldn’t have been sent for.”

“I was.” Hermione said defiantly, immensely grateful that her skills at lying had improved since her Hogwarts days when she would have fumbled over the words. “One of the guests told me that someone had requested a healer in the caves.”

“Did they?” Greyback asked, obviously clear that he did not believe her.

Hermione nodded. “Yes. Though I see now that they must have been mistaken.”

“Must have.” Greyback agreed. For a moment he simply stared at her, but then he shrugged. “Doesn’t really matter though does it? You’re here now.” He rolled his hip against hers. Hermione grit her teeth as she felt the hardness of him press against her.

“Let me go or you’ll be sorry.” She repeated, glad the anger was keeping her voice strong and steady.

Fenir laughed as if he were being threatened by a child. He leaned down and ran the tip of his nose up her neck, inhaling deeply. “I’ll be sorry, aye? Why? Because your dear husband will have my head?”

Hermione bristled at the mention of Draco and Greyback felt her stiffen against him.

His grin slowly grew wider and he pulled back to look directly in her face. “That little boy does not frighten me pet. He is nothing. And after I’m done with you, I’ll finish him. The Dark Lord will thank me for getting rid of such disloyal servants.”

Hermione glared at him. “He’ll never believe you. Draco and I have served the Dark Lord faithfully. You on the other hand have been nothing but a disappointment.”

Unkept rage slipped across Greyback’s face at this. She knew she shouldn’t goad him, knew that she was in no position to insult him; pressed between a stone wall and his strong body, her wand lying on the floor at their feet.

But she couldn’t stop. “I mean why else would he keep you down here instead of inviting you to the party. You’re an embarrassment to him.”

Greyback snarled as he dropped one of her wrists only to draw back and slap her across the face. Hermione’s head snapped back as he hit her, feeling the burst of burning pain in her cheek. His hand quickly rose again, this time covering her mouth where he squeezed her jaw with everything he had.

“You’re a bitch.” He snarled, fangs inches from her face. His breath was hot on her face as Hermione struggled against the pressure over her mouth, her free hand pulling and scratching at his skin. “And bitches are only good for one thing.”

His movement was quick, and Hermione gasped as he spun her around, his hands ripping at her dress as he attempted to raise it up her legs. He grunted as he rutted his hips against her backside in frustration, pressing her face-forward against the wall.

Hermione struggled and attempted to turn around, only to be pushed back to the wall by the force of Greyback’s body against hers. The hardness of his cock pressed against her arse as he ground against her, making perfectly clear what his intention was. He was breathing heavily against her ear, grunting as he tried to hitch her dress up.

But he couldn’t get it, Hermione realized with a start as he swore in her ear. The bloody dress that hugged her body so tightly that she had felt naked under his gaze earlier, was too tight to pull over her thighs.

She cried out, pulled away from her realization as the pressure of sharp teeth bit her neck. Pure fear overtook her and Hermione snapped her head back, meeting the bridge of Greyback’s nose. The man howled in pain as he fell away from her.

Feeling the pressure of his body leave her, Hermione spun and instinctively brought her knee up into the werewolf’s groin. The hands that had been clutching his bleeding nose went immediately down, gripping his appendage that had only moments before been pressed fully erect against Hermione’s backside. Hermione stared at him in shock as he dropped to his knees, squealing like a wounded dog.

Her wits came back to her in a rush and she scooped up her wand from the ground as she ran to get away. Greyback reached out and snatched at the end of her dress as she fled but barely skimmed it with his fingers, falling back to the ground as he continued to clutch his groin.

And Hermione ran.

She sprinted down the remaining twisting hallways, desperate to get away before Greyback recovered and came after her. Never in her life had she felt this fear, felt this helplessness, felt this alone. Even when Lucius had threatened her, Draco had been there. But he wasn’t here now.

The tunnel was a blur and by the time she flew through the door of the meeting room and raced to the fireplace, she was breathless with fear and exertion. Clutching her wand tightly in one hand she threw down the floo powder with the other, calling for the Manor in a breaking voice.

The flames in Draco’s study faded quickly as she landed in the grate. Still shaking, Hermione exited the fireplace quickly and stumbled into the room. She reached out blindly for anything to grab onto, feeling lightheaded from her run and now the sobs that were wracking her body. Tears filled her eyes and blurred her vision as she finally found a grip on the back of one of the chairs in the room.

Steadying herself, Hermione gripped her chest as she tried to take deep breaths to cease the sobbing. It was just panic, she thought to herself, you’re having a panic attack, it’ll pass. As logical as her thoughts were, her body was betraying her. She sat down slowly on the seat of the chair, bending forward so her head was by her knees.

Squeezing her eyes shut, she took deep breaths, feeling the constriction in her chest as her body fought her. The sobs that fell from her mouth were painful and wracked her entire body, making her shake. She felt tears slip from the corners of her eyes and slide hotly down her cheeks. Just a panic attack, she repeated like a mantra in her head.

What was only a couple of minutes felt like hours until she was able to take a full breath without feeling lightheaded. She waited a moment more as the tightness in her chest faded before sitting up slowly.

Just a panic attack, she thought a final time. Knowing her time was up and refusing to let Draco find her like this, Hermione dashed at her eyes, swiping away any of the residual tears that had leaked out. Her fingers against her face made her wince as she passed over the bruise that was forming where Greyback had hit her.

Standing quickly, Hermione crossed the room to the washroom that was connected to the study. The reflection in the mirror made her wince. Her eyes were red, and the carefully placed makeup was smudged about them. There was a large red and purple bruise forming over her left cheek which she knew would look even worse in a few minutes. Her hair was a mess, and as she raised her arms to try and pull it back, she caught site of the red marks on the side of her neck.

“Oh god.” Hermione breathed out as she leaned forward to look closer at it.

She had forgotten about the bite during her escape. Touching the marks gingerly with her fingertips, she saw that the skin was just barely broken. There were no true puncture marks, just scratches on the top layer of her skin caused by Fenir dragging his teeth over her neck.

The likelihood of the bacteria found in a Greyback’s saliva entering her bloodstream was unlikely given the minor damage to the skin. Even though the medical side of her brain reminded her of the fact, she couldn’t take her eyes off the red marks. She remembered visiting Bill in the hospital wing after his attack, remembered the deep wounds that were slashed across his face. To worry about a tiny scratch was illogical compared to that. 

Steeling herself, she went to work casting illusion charms to conceal the damage to her face. Her attempts at taming her hair were given up after a few minutes of frustration as her shaky hands refused to cooperate.

Closing her eyes and resigning herself, Hermione called for help. “Kildy.”

A loud crack filled the small bathroom and Hermione looked down at the sudden appearance of the house elf.

Kildy’s eyes widened as she took in Hermione’s appearance, the sudden shimmer of tears in the large eyes told Hermione that the elf knew what had happened to her.

“Oh miss.” Kildy whispered, reaching out tentatively towards Hermione before pulling back, as if afraid to touch her.

Immensely grateful that she had covered the bruises before the elf’s arrival, Hermione shook her head and attempted a smile.

“I’m alright, nothing happened.” She could tell the elf didn’t believe her. “I need your help with my hair.” Hermione gestured to the tangled mess of what once was a sleek updo.

Kildy nodded immediately and within a minute had Hermione’s hair looking perfect again. Taking a final look in the mirror, Hermione deemed her appearance acceptable and nodded to Kildy. She was desperate to get to the party before Draco came looking for her.

“Thank you. Please don’t say anything to Draco, not until I do.”

The elf nodded again; eyes still wide in concern for her mistress. As Hermione turned to leave Kildy made a small noise and reached out to catch Hermione’s dress in her long bony fingers.

“Wait miss, your dress.”

Twisting around to see where the elf was pointing, Hermione found that there was a large tear at the bottom hem of the green gown. Cursing, she tried to reach back towards the tear to see the extent of the damage. The tear could have occurred at any time during her ordeal; when Greyback tried to rip the dress up her hips, when she had kneed him, during her escape. She couldn’t remember and it truly didn’t matter.

Kildy studied the tear for a moment before snapping her fingers. Immediately the green fabric started to repair itself, drawing back together as if the fabric was being woven anew. The dangling sequins restrung themselves and remade the intricate pattern on the fabric.

It took seconds but soon the dress was repaired, looking as if it had never been damaged in the first place. Hermione looked at the elf with gratitude, letting out a small breath of relief.

“Thank you Kildy. Thank you so, so much.”

The elf blushed slightly and looked down, pleasure bursting in her chest at Hermione’s words.

“How do I look?” Hermione asked her as she attempted a small smile, straitening her shoulders and holding her arms out to her sides.

Hermione didn’t miss the look of sympathetic concern that filled the elf’s eyes as Kildy looked up at her, but she chose to ignore it. After a moment Kildy nodded.

“Beautiful miss.”

Hermione smiled softly. “Thank you.” She said once again before turning and exiting the room.

Pansy's dress

Hermione hair anddddd Hermione's dress! Honestly I love it so much and want it in my closet though I'll never be anywhere fancy enough to wear it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How we feeling? Good chapter? No? Either way, tell me what you're feeling. It's honestly so uplifting to read the comments you guys have been leaving me and I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. It makes me more excited to write, hence the recent updates :)


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soo this party thing is really being drawn out simply for my own selfish pleasure :) I promise next chapter things will start to get more exciting. I've included some fan art that has provided some great inspiration at the end (I own nothing and never will because I cannot draw worth a damn)

The ballroom was abuzz with activity when Hermione slipped through the wide double doors to join the party. Lively music from the orchestra drifted through the chandeliers that hung from the ceilings, making them tinkle delicately above the partygoers. The décor in the room was just as lovely as it was in the hallway; large trees lined the French doors that lead out onto the veranda and silver dripped from the ceiling like icicles.

Hermione felt several eyes fall on her as she walked through the crowd but ignored them in her pursuit to find Draco. She tried to push away the uncomfortable feeling of being watched as it was just too similar to the way that Greyback’s yellow eyes has looked at her.

The thought caused a ripple of gooseflesh to cover her arms and she rubbed at her skin as if to banish them. She had had plenty of practice at shoving down her emotions during stressful times, this should be no different. But even as she thought it, she could feel the ghostly sensation of Greyback touching her, pressed against her.

Steeling herself against the emotions, she made her way through the crowded room, finally catching site of Draco. He had his back to her and was standing among a group of several men near one of the immaculately decorated trees. She let out a small breath of relief and walked towards them, catching him checking his watch twice in the short amount of time it took to reach him. Her time was far past up and she wondered briefly what he would have done if she hadn’t come back.

The blond wizard was obviously distracted from the older man that was attempting to engage him in a conversation about the business strategy to bring back Quidditch. It was a seemingly intense discussion that Draco obviously had no interest in. When Hermione reached him, she placed a soft hand on his back, causing him to stiffen and jerk his head towards her.

Hermione didn’t look up at him, instead inclining her head towards the man that had been talking intensely about broom sales and tried to fake a politely interested expression. She could feel Draco’s eyes on her but didn’t want to call any more attention to her arrival than necessary.

“Ah, my dear Mrs. Malfoy.” The older gentleman lit up at her appearance, offering her a wide smile as he took her free hand and raised it to his lips. “We were wondering where you had gone to. Draco here has been making all sorts of excuses though we all think he’s simply keeping you all for himself.”

She returned his smile easily, offering her apologies for her lateness and explained that she had been called away to a patient. During her speech Draco casually let his eyes roam over her, checking her for any signs of injury that may have occurred during her time in the caves. Once again Hermione was grateful for the illusion charms.

But even without evidence of physical injury, there was something about her demeanor that had Draco slightly narrowing his eyes in concern. Underneath the gracious, warm, polite facade that she was so good at, was a tenseness. It was as if her body was coiled in anticipation, waiting for someone to jump out and attack her. Her brilliant smile didn’t quite reach her eyes and Draco noticed how quickly she drew her hand back from the quidditch gentleman’s lips.

Something about the way she held herself had him refraining from returning her touch, even if it would have been natural for him to put an arm about her waist. Her hand on his back was cold and barely rested against his perfectly tailored suit jacket. Instead, he turned his attention back to the men in front of them, interrupting what would have been a long speech from a silver-haired wizard on the importance of healers in society.

“Excuse me gentleman, I hate to cut this discussion short but we must pay our respects to the Dark Lord now that my wife has arrived.” His voice was smooth, impersonally polite as he addressed the men who were once his father’s coworkers at the Ministry.

Amongst the understanding chorus of agreement, Draco turned and gave his arm to Hermione, letting her make the choice to touch him or not.

Grateful to be pulled away, Hermione took Draco’s arm and allowed him to lead her away form the small group. The Dark Lord was in his usual spot near the fireplace, relaxing against the extravagant chair that had been placed for him. But halfway to the Dark Lord’s throne, Draco stopped and drew Hermione towards the tall windows that lined the wall.

She didn’t protest and simply let him guide her. Among the throng of people, they were relatively inconspicuous as Draco turned to her with narrowed eyes. It was harder than she thought it would be to look up to meet them. After so little time after the incident, it was more difficult than she thought to mask her feelings, especially around him.

“Are you alright?” Draco asked quietly, trying to keep his voice casual but low so that they wouldn’t be overheard.

Hermione blinked and forced what she hoped would be a convincing smile. “Of course. Everything went fine, though we should probably have this conversation later.”

Still not convinced, Draco narrowed his eyes slightly and raised a tentative hand to her neck, letting his thumb gently run across her jawline. He didn’t miss the wince as he swiped his thumb upwards over her cheek, but she smiled quickly and reached up to take his hand into hers.

“I’m fine, Draco. I promise.” Even the slightest brush of his thumb over her cheek had the bruise underneath burning in pain, but Hermione bit the inside of her lip to distract from it. “And I’ll tell you everything that happened, but right now we really should make sure that your master sees that I’m here.”

He almost rolled his eyes and called bullshit at her dismissal, but after seeing the slight pleading in her eyes, he sighed and conceded.

“Fine.” He said shortly and lead her by their still joined hands in Voldemort’s direction.

For being hosts of the party being thrown in his honor, Voldemort was quite aloof to Draco and Hermione’s presence. He watched them with deep red eyes as Hermione thanked him for his presence and apologized for her lateness. He made a comment about how the health of his followers comes first before dismissing them with a nod of his head.

Hermione was immensely grateful for the Dark Lord’s apparent distraction as it required less of her to put on a show. As she and Draco turned away from his throne, Hermione caught site of Pansy and Theo near the bar.

“I think I need a drink.” She said with an overly bright smile at Draco before hurrying in the other couples’ direction. Draco followed close behind her, coming up as Hermione greeted the two with comfortable happiness. She was good, he thought as Hermione once again complimented Pansy on her dress.

“You seem oddly sober.” Pansy said with a giggle, quite unsober herself.

Hermione laughed at the slightly slurred words and raised her brows in Theo’s direction who only shrugged his shoulders.

“Only way to get through these things.” The brown-haired wizard said with a smile, his own eyes warm with the effects of alcohol.

“Well in that case I can’t be left out.” Hermione said after a brief moment of consideration, ignoring the slight protest from Draco as she turned to the bar and ordered a shot. Pansy and Theo watched her with amused glee as she tossed the drink back, laughing at the slight grimace on her face.

The burn felt good, Hermione conceded as she felt the liquid slide down her throat and hit her stomach like a rock. It was distracting from the racing thoughts flitting about her mind. Drinking was not a common habit for her. In fact, she had only partaken a handful of occasions with her friends in the Order, mainly after a particularly difficult attack where they all tried to find escape from the disappointment of their mission.

Hermione was just ordering another shot when Draco came to stand next to her, casually leaning his head down in her direction to speak. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

No, she wasn’t sure. Actually she knew that it probably wasn’t a good idea given her mental state, but she chose to ignore it. Turning wide innocent eyes up at him, she raised the second glass to her lips. “Absolutely.” She said before tilting her head back and tossing the drink.

“Though,” She said with a slight grimace as the burning alcohol once again hit her stomach. “It does taste awful.” 

She turned to the bartender and held up another finger before turning her eyes back to meet Draco’s, this time finding no humor in them.

Feeling somewhat frustrated at his seriousness, Hermione returned his gaze with a sharpness. “I’m going to drink and try to enjoy the night with Theo and Pansy.” She said simply, giving him a pointed look. “There are more than enough inebriated people in this room, what’s one more?”

He didn’t say anything, just simply gave her a look that reminded her of ones her father would give when she was about to make a bad decision.

“Besides,” she said, reaching up to finger the bowtie at his neck. “You’ll make sure I don’t do anything stupid.”

At this he narrowed his eyes. “I’m not your nanny.”

“No, you’re not.” Hermione agreed before reaching over to pick up the glass from silver bar top. She snatched another one and handed it demurely to Draco. “You’re my husband. Which means you have to do what I say.”

He stared at her for a moment with raised brows before the corner of his mouth twitched and he accepted the offered glass. “Not in your wildest dreams.” The silent ‘Granger’ that was so obvious at the end of his comment made her smile up at him.

Still grinning, Hermione tapped his glass with hers and tossed the drink back. Draco shook his head before following suit, no expression on his face after he swallowed the burning liquid.

“Well now it’s a party.” Pansy said happily as Hermione and Draco turned back to join the other couple. “I don’t think I’ve seen Draco drink in… okay well since I was last here but that doesn’t count.”

“Why doesn’t it count?” Hermione asked as she turned to the other witch. She was starting to feel the tingling in her fingertips and lips that indicated the alcohol was quickly taking effect. Given her lack of experience, maybe it would have been wise not to down three drinks in a row.

“Becauseeee,” Pansy said obnoxiously, putting an arm around Hermione’s waist. “It was girl talk remember.”

Hermione laughed slightly at the memory, knowing how much Draco would hate to be associated with such an event as girl talk. Theo on the other hand gave a hurt look in Draco’s direction.

“You got invited to girl talk? I’ve been trying to get in on these things since Hogwarts.”

Draco rolled his eyes but gave his friend a slight smile. “That’s only because you thought they involved scantily clad witches in only their knickers as they bounced around the dormitories and snogged each other.”

Hermione snorted at the description, remembering her own experience of ‘girls night’ in the Gryffindor dormitories. Ones that usually were composed of Lavendar and Pavarti gushing over their latest crush as they ate sweets bought during their weekend trips to Hogsmeade.

“And did it?” Theo asked, clearly not ready for his boyhood fantasy to come to an end.

After a threateningly raised brow in his direction from Pansy, Draco shook his head. “Sorry mate, I’ve been sworn to secrecy.”

Theo let out a loud exclamation of disappointment and turned pouting eyes on the girls who simply shook their heads laughing. Hermione was more than happy to protect his not so innocent dreams, though she didn’t exactly feel comfortable thinking that Harry and Ron may have had similar fantasies.

The dynamic between the group of four was something that no one could ever have predicted. Hermione herself was amazed at just how comfortable she felt with the three former Slytherins. It was easy to feel like herself around them, both a dangerous but also comforting realization in her current state.

It was so nice to know that she had allies in this dark world that Voldemort had created. In the absence of her friends, and the subsequent loneliness, Hermione was more grateful than ever for Draco and Pansy’s presence.

The small group spoke together for some time as they stood at the bar, telling stories of their time at Hogwarts and the antics that occurred in the Slytherin common room. As a former Prefect, Hermione was appalled to learn of the weekend jaunts about the dungeon for drinking and other salacious behaviors. 

“How did you not get caught?” She asked incredulously after hearing Theo’s story of his first make out session with Daphne Greengrass in one of the old rooms. “The prefects patrolled down there every night, multiple times a night.”

Theo smirked at her and gave a knowing glance to his fellow Slytherins. “When you’re stuck in a dungeon for the majority of the year being watched by mermaids and other perverts, you find a way to get some privacy.”

“Yes, but--” Hermione started but was cut off by Pansy.

“Oh come on, like you never snuck out of your common room to go somewhere with a guy?” The black eyebrows wiggled in Hermione’s direction. “We all know about Krum’s infatuation with you in fourth year. Don’t tell me that you and he never…” The suggestive look the witch gave her finished the sentence for her.

Looking appalled and feeling somewhat embarrassed to be talking about her dalliance with Victor Krum in Draco’s presence, Hermione shook her head. “Of course not. That would have involved sneaking completely out of the castle since they stayed on the Durmstrang ship, remember? Besides, we just went to the ball together, it was nothing more than that.”

Actually it had been a bit more than that, Hermione remembered. Victor Krum would always be someone special to her for he had been the first person to make her feel desired and wanted as a woman. She had only been fifteen, but in a way that had increased the residual feeling of joy at having someone like Victor Krum look at her like he had.

And in fact she had snuck out of the Gryffindor dormitories to meet with him, something that she would never admit to Harry or Ron, or anyone else for that matter. They had gone up to some of the abandoned towers at Hogwarts and had spent a few nights together, talking about their dreams and goals, and other things.

She remembered telling Harry that Victor was mostly a physical being, and while he may not have talked as much as she had, he had listened. He had listened and genuinely seemed to have enjoyed it. Hermione smiled slightly at the memory of his supportiveness over her teenage dreams about the future. It had been years since she had spoken to the Bulgarian, just another reason to look forward to the end of the war.

Draco watched her face and couldn’t help but to feel a bit jealous at the wistful expression that cross the blue eyes at the mention of the quidditch player. It wasn’t that he was jealous of whatever had occurred between them, but that he would never get the opportunity to have anything more with Hermione than what they had now. Their time was ticking the closer they got to defeating Voldemort, and he felt that they were close.

“You are such a liar.” Pansy said as she rolled her eyes at Hermione’s reply. The girls laughed together for a moment before Theo cut in, bowing quite ungracefully to Pansy as he extended his hand. His gesture effectively cut off the conversation and the other three watched Theo’s antics with amusement.

“Now, I know I’m no Victor Krum but I’ll make it up to you with some impressive dance moves?” His green eyes sparkled with drunken happiness as he looked up at the witch he loved.

Pansy couldn’t help the giggle that escaped her lips as she set down the glass she had been holding to take Theo’s outstretched hand. “I’ve been waiting for you to ask all night.” She replied with a bright smile.

Hermione watched with a soft smile as Theo led Pansy out onto the swirling dancefloor that had formed in the middle of the room. They faded into the swish of brightly colored fabric that swayed to the orchestra music being played. It made her happy seeing the two of them together, just as it made her happy to see Ginny and Harry together.

“How do they do it?” She asked suddenly, her eyes still following the swirling movement of Pansy’s purple dress.

Draco glanced down at her and found that her eyes were fixed on the dancers, an almost wistful expression on her face. “How do they do what?”

“Be happy.” She glanced up at him and smiled slightly. “Together. How do any of them do it? With everything that is going on.”

He watched as her eyes went back to the dancers and for a moment all he wanted was to draw her close to him and convince her that it was easy to be happy, that everything was going to be alright. But he didn’t believe it himself, so he certainly wouldn’t lie to her.

Instead of answering, he held out a hand to her, waited until she looked up at him. The blue eyes were sad even though she smiled as she took his hand.

“Happiness is overrated.” He said as they walked towards the now waltzing dancers.

“It’s not,” Hermione said as Draco spun her about to face him, their hands joining as they swept into the flow of the dance. “But thank you for trying to make me feel better.”

They moved together easily, the music and other dancers swirling about them in a soft, graceful spins and arcs. Hermione had always enjoyed dancing. It was something she remembered from her childhood from attending different medical conferences with her parents. Her father had taught her how to dance at the usual corporate parties that followed the events, and he always made sure to stay near the edges where they could pause and practice the steps until she got them right.

After half a song, Hermione couldn’t help but smile up at Draco. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Don’t sound so surprised.” He said as he changed their movement, allowing the quicker pace of the new song to pull them forward. “We had parties like this every other week growing up.”

“It must have been terrible for you.” Hermione said sarcastically, laughing slightly as Draco spun her underneath his arm.

“As a teenage boy forced to go to parties and dance with his mother’s friends, it really was.”

“Yes but I bet you also got to dance with their daughters.” She replied with a mischievous smile.

The alcohol was truly having an effect now as Hermione couldn’t tell if the spinning in her head was from the dancing or the drink. But she couldn’t deny how good it felt to be dancing with Draco like they were the traditional couple they were pretending to be. She remembered him dancing with Pansy at the Yule Ball, realized anew that he had been a good dance then too.

“What are you smiling about?” Draco asked as the music slowed once again. Instinctively, he drew her closer to him so that they were pressed together, swaying to the soft string music.

Hermione hadn’t realized that she had been smiling, hadn’t realized that she felt even a semblance of happiness after everything that had happened today. Tilting her head back a little, she shrugged but continued to smile. “I’m enjoying myself.”

Draco made a noise like he was laughing, looking at her with confusion. “Is this what happens when you drink? Your moods jump around faster than a chocolate frog?”

Hermione laughed and the sound warmed him a bit. “It comes with being brilliant, try and keep up.”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and he rolled his eyes. They danced together for a while longer without speaking, simply enjoying the feel of moving in sync with each other. Hermione sighed softly and rested her uninjured cheek on Draco’s chest, letting the soft, muffled sound of his heart mingle with the music. Discretely, she felt Draco press his lips to the top of her head.

“You are alright though?” He said quietly against her hair.

Hermione nodded quickly, not letting the incident from earlier slip back to the forefront of her mind. Pulling back she smiled up at him. “I’m okay. Just enjoying this.” She ran her fingertips over the lapels of his coat, smiling when he caught her hand in his before it traveled lower.

“You’re drunk, _Olivia_.” He said, with a pointed look that only made Hermione chuckle.

“Probably. But like you said, my moods are unpredictable and you can hardly blame me when you look like that in a suit.” She pulled back slightly to study him further, finding that she thoroughly enjoyed what she saw.

She was flirting with him, Draco thought with amusement. Her free hand came up around his neck and he could feel her fingers dance over the sensitive skin of his neck. He narrowed his eyes at her as a tingle ran down his back.

Hermione smiled coyly and pressed closer to him, sensing the shift in his mood. “We could just pop upstairs for a moment. No one would notice.”

He raised his brows at her words, never imagining that the goody-two-shoes Granger would be trying to seduce him, especially at a party thrown in the Dark Lord’s honor. The man in question had left over an hour ago though, and the free drinks from the bar had obviously been taken advantage of given the noise around them.

Unfortunately, the way she was pressed against him and the familiar sweet scent of her vanilla perfume was making her efforts effecive. It didn’t help that the memory of how she really looked during their private moment in the study earlier tonight flashed across his mind.

“We’re the hosts.” He said, trying to convince himself as much as her.

Her eyes lit slightly as she saw his internal struggle. “We are, however that also means that we have to see to any problems happening with the party, say… in the kitchen? Or the bedroom?”

The slight smile and raised brows were enough to make the corner of his mouth twitch as he shook his head at her. Taking it as a surrender, Hermione slid her hand into his as she stopping their dancing and pulled him towards the edge of the floor, through the onlookers towards the double doors.

Her body was thrumming with excitement as they snuck out of their own party, only heightened by the residual effects of the alcohol. There were a few people in the hall who seemed to be seeking their own opportunity for privacy and didn’t even look up as Draco and Hermione passed by. The lights throughout the Manor were dimmed from before, giving the hall an ethereal glow.

On their way towards the stairs, Hermione tugged on Draco’s hand and pulled him in a different direction. The last-minute inspiration made Draco chuckle as she closed the doors behind them. The library was dark around them, dark enough that he could barely make out the shelves that lined the walls.

“Really? You know I have a bed, Granger.” He asked with a laugh before he turned around to look at her.

He could barely make out her outline against the door, but the curly silhouette of the once sleek hair told him that she had taken off the ring. The knowledge that she once again looked like herself had him stepping forward and drawing her to him. Her hands were determined as they pushed at his coat jacket, their lips colliding in the darkness.

Hermione let the confidence the alcohol gave her guide her, tossing Draco’s jacket aside once she got it off. His mouth moved over hers with insistence, obviously feeling the same newfound urgency that she was feeling. The feel of his hands skimming over her waist and hips was enough to erase whatever lingering feel of Greyback’s hands that remained.

Draco’s dress shirt came off next, leaving him in a thin white t-shirt that clung to the muscles on his chest and abdomen. Hermione stepped back, breaking their kiss as she let her eyes roam down his body. The white t-shirt was illuminated in the dark, along with the bright blond of his hair.

“See something you like, Granger?” He asked, remembering his own appreciation of her figure in the green dress.

Hermione bit her lip and looked up to meet his eyes, which were barely visible in the darkness. “Yes I do.”

The soft way she said it had him stepping forward to meet her again, dipping his head to devour her lips again. Hermione made a noise in her throat at the quick movement but then moaned as Draco’s tongue slipped over her own. Reaching for his belt, Hermione pushed him further into the room, walking with him until the back of his knees touched the seat of the couch she knew would be there.

He pulled away from her with a chuckle, feeling her nimble fingers working at his belt. Hermione ignored his laugh but gasped when he dropped his lips to her neck, kissing and sucking on the soft skin there. It wasn’t enough of a distraction that she wasn’t able to get his belt undone. Soon Draco was stepping out of the trousers that had pooled around his feet.

In the back of his mind he was cognizant that she was still fully dressed, but the thought was quickly pushed aside as her slim fingers slipped into his boxers and wrapped around his length. He jolted with the quick sensation of pleasure that came with her touch and dropped his head back with a groan.

Hermione smiled to herself before leaning forward and pressing her lips to his exposed throat, letting her hand move over the silky hard member. His breath was slightly rattled as her fingers danced and Hermione found herself enjoying his response to her.

Letting the feeling spur her on, Hermione pulled back for a moment before slowly lowering down to her knees in front of him. The tightness of the dress made her movement somewhat difficult but she could hardly care less if it tore now. With a quick tug she had his boxers off his hips, his cock jumping forward at the sudden freedom.

“Granger.” Draco groaned, looking down in surprise to find her on her knees on front of him. He had to admit that this was like a moment form his wildest fantasies and resisted the urge to pinch himself.

“Shh.” She replied quietly, holding his eyes as she leaned forward to press her lips against the head of his cock. He closed his eyes at the feeling and resisted the urge to press his hips forward. The warm feeling of her tongue swiping over the sensitive skin was doing nothing for his control.

Her lips were like a whisper over him, running from base to tip before parting her lips and drawing him into her mouth. Draco made a noise above her and one of his hands instinctively came up to rest on her hair, his fingers digging in to her scalp.

Enjoying his reaction, Hermione slid her lips up and down the length of him. He was larger than average, something that Hermione had noted when they had first been together, though it was much more obvious as she took him in her mouth. As she moved faster against him, Draco couldn’t help but to thrust his hips forward.

Doubling her efforts, Hermione bobbed her head faster, running her tongue against the ridge on the underside of his cock. Draco gasped with her movements and knew that if she kept it up, he wouldn’t last long much longer. Knowing how determined she got with the presentation of a challenge, Draco dropped his hand from her hair to her shoulder, a silent signal.

At his touch, Hermione pulled away with a slight pop. Leaning back on her heels, she looked up at him.

He was breathing heavily she saw, and the way that his cock had pulsed in her mouth made his message quite clear. Standing with little difficulty, Hermione moved quickly as she pushed him back so that he was falling back to sit on the couch behind him.

Whatever humor had been present was gone in an instant as Draco looked up at her. Even though her features were obscured by the darkness, he still felt his breath catch in his throat at how beautiful she was. He watched as she reached behind her to pull the zipper down on the back of her dress. Some of the sequins caught what little light there was as the material slid off her shoulders and over her hips.

Her breasts were bare and after slipping the silk knickers down her legs, the rest of her was as well. His mouth felt dry as she stepped forward and straddled him, her knees resting on either side of his hips. He couldn’t help himself as his hands automatically came up to run over her hips to cup her arse.

Lacing her fingers behind his neck, Hermione leaned down and brought her lips to his again, melting against him as his hands ran slowly up and down her back. Slowly with a sigh, she rotated her hips over him and felt his length slide slowly through her folds.

Draco drew his head away with a groan and tipped it back against the cushion of the couch. They stayed like that for a moment, adjusting to the pressure of pleasure before Hermione began to move, rolling her hips against his. The heat that had been building up since their dance together grew. Hermione placed her hands on the back of the couch and increased her pace, helped along as Draco’s hand grip her hips tightly.

The dark room was filled with only the sound of their breathing as Hermione rode him. She could feel beads of sweat forming between her breasts as her hips rocked against Draco’s. Leaning forward, Draco wrapped an arm around her back, supporting her as he pressed his lips against her throat. Hermione gripped him back, placing one hand on his knee to keep from falling too far back.

The soft moans that slipped through her lips were driving Draco closer and closer to the edge. She was practically humming against him as the slick wetness of her gripped him. It was overwhelming how perfectly they fit together, how perfect he felt holding her as she moved over him. He dropped his mouth to her breast and wrapped his lip around the pebbled nipple, hearing her gasp of pleasure as he pulled at it.

Leaning back, he drew her with him until she was once again upright. There was a slight creak from the couch that they both ignored as Draco continued to mouth her breast. There was nothing that could distract them at this point.

The pressure of his hands caused her hips to snap over his, her clit brushed against the hard muscles on his stomach in a way that had her mewling in pleasure. Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione panted slightly as the coil within her grew more and more intense. It didn’t take long before she gasped, head dropping back as she clenched around him.

He felt the exact moment she lost herself and with a few more thrusts, he was following suit. Gripping her tighter, he let her ride out her release, hips moving slowly over his as her breath caught in her throat. The waves that crashed over her made her whole body spasm and Draco held her as she pulsed around him. The joy and satisfaction he felt from watching her fall apart almost exceeded his own personal pleasure. Slowly, Hermione came down from the high, took deep breaths as she relaxed under his hands and dropped her forehead to rest against his.

Her eyes were still closed as she leaned against him, feeling the warmth and wetness where their bodies were still joined together. Draco let his hands wander lazily across the soft skin of her back, enjoying the resulting shiver his touch caused.

It felt like a lifetime before either of them spoke, neither wanting to break the surreal bubble of pleasure and comfort they had formed. Hermione sighed and shifted in his lap, pulling back to look down at him.

“Parties aren’t so bad.” She said, her voice thick and full with residual pleasure.

Draco laughed as he looked up at her sated face, grateful that it was dark enough where she couldn't see the emotion in his face. “If they all include this then no, they aren’t.”


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT'S BEEN SO LONG! I am so sorry for the wait. The motivation to write has just not been there. I can't say when the next update will be coming but I'm hoping within the next two weeks. Thank you all for your patience and I hope you like the chapter :)

“So did you find anything useful in the caves when you were down there?” Draco asked a few minutes later as they were both pulling their clothes back on. He had almost forgotten about her venture earlier in the evening, finding himself far too distracted with how she looked in that dress and how enduring she was while drunk. 

Hermione had also almost forgotten about the caves, but the soreness of her body where Greyback had hurt her was enough of a reminder. She paused in her pursuit of feeling with her bare feet across the carpet for her other shoe, mildly distracted by the dress that kept slipping down her shoulders.

“Umm.. I’m not sure.” She said absentmindedly before exclaiming in triumph as her toes collided with the second shoe. Hopping a bit, she slid her foot into the sparkly heel and strode back over to where Draco was tucking his shirt back into his pants. Turning, she pulled the loose strands of hair over her shoulder to expose the back of the dress.

“Zip me up?”

Smiling to himself, Draco slid the zip up over the smooth skin of her back before casually dropping a quick kiss to her shoulder.

Still in the dark, he couldn’t see the smile that Hermione turned to him with, but he could certainly feel her upturned lips as she stood on her toes to kiss him.

Pulling apart, he kept him hands lightly rested on her hips. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Actually I did, just not to the extend that you’d like.” Hermione said, not able to help the slight feeling of disappointment that crept into her voice. She felt really good at the moment, had been floating on a high of dancing, alcohol and risky sex. Unfortunately, Draco’s question brought back all the unpleasantries of her voyage down to the caves.

Stepping away, Hermione attempted to tame her curls back into the style they had been in before Draco’s hands had viciously pulled them loose.

“I don’t think now is the best time to go over that.” She said as she slipped the ring back on her finger. “We’ve already been gone from the party for too long.”

“You certainly didn’t care about leaving the party when you started undressing me with your eyes on the dancefloor.” He sensed that she was avoiding the question for some reason, and that was making him a bit wary.

“Well I was drunk then and completely out of my head.”

Draco rolled his eyes in the dark as he shrugged into his suit jacket, flicking his wand over the material to divest it of any wrinkles. “I may point out that being drunk was entirely your fault. Also I don’t think a quick shag was enough to purge the alcohol from your system Granger.”

Hoping that her appearance was relatively presentable again, Hermione stepped up to Draco’s side and smoothed a hand down his arm. “Don’t discredit the sobering effects of really great sex Malfoy.”

He didn’t, feeling entirely sober himself. And it had been really, really great sex.

Resigning to wait to discuss her findings until they had divested themselves of their guests, Draco led her back out to the hall, pausing for a moment to scan his eyes over her to ensure her decency. Her hair was slightly mussed and the lipstick she had been wearing earlier was completely gone from her now rosy lips, but the way she held herself would dispel any rumors about what they were just doing. There were still quite a few people in the ballroom when they slipped back in, finding that their absence had not beens noticed.

***

It was several hours later when the final guests were politely seen to the door by Draco and Hermione. The group of young Hogwarts aged boys stumbled a bit as they paraded towards the apparition point at the end of the drive. Hermione had zero confidence that they wouldn’t end up splinching themselves, but she was too tired to deal with them further.

As the large doors finally closed, and the Manor was once again silent, Hermione sighed with fatigue. Draco silently agreed with the sentiment and immediately shrugged out of his suit jacket, pleased to be rid of the constricting thing.

“I don’t suppose part of the decorating contract with the elves is clean-up?” Hermione asked, turning to look at the still beautifully decorated interior. The ballroom was bound to be a mess with the slight chaos that had taken over the party as soon as the older generation had retired for the evening. The ache in her body vehemently protested the thought of having to clean up tonight.

Draco glanced down at her as he ran a hand through his hair, feeling the sting of fatigue in his eyes. “Well I’m certainly not picking up.”

Never had a Malfoy cleaned up the resulting mess from one of the many grand parties that had been thrown over his lifetime. His parents cavalier attitude towards any household chores had obviously not skipped his generation as he inwardly groaned at the thought of cleaning. Even magical cleaning sounded tiring.

Hermione nodded, blinking slowly as she yawned. “Good. I’m exhausted.”

They climbed the stairs together, ignoring the tinsel that was scattered on the floor. Unconsciously, Hermione followed Draco into his bedroom, much to his amusement. He resisted the urge to point out her actions as he crossed the room to the bathroom, deciding it wise given her tired and cranky state to simply ignore it. It was odd at how good he was getting at reading her moods, not to mention the small nudge of happiness he felt when she had come to his bedroom instead of hers.

Draco took a small amount of time in the bathroom to ponder those thoughts. It had been a long time since he had felt any other emotion other than hatred and fear. He knew the course that this war was going to take him; knew exactly where he’d end up. And because of that knowledge, he was going to enjoy any sliver of happiness that came his way before it was torn from him by the dementors of Azkaban.

Feeling lighter than he had since he was a child, Draco reentered his bedroom determined to bring Granger to bed despite their exhausted states. As soon as he entered the room though, all happiness immediately fell away.

Hermione kicked the green dress away from her feet after wriggling out of it. As beautiful as the garment was, her arms and ankles stung from rubbing against sequins all night. The beginnings of a headache sprung up as she pulled her hair loose, but she sighed with relief as the heavy weight of it dropped away from her neck.

Turning away from the bed, she started to walk towards Draco’s closet to steal one of his shirts for the night when she turned and was surprised to see Draco rushing towards her. Startled, Hermione blinked up at him and took a step back as he came to a stop just in front of her. His eyes were wide as they looked down at her, hands partially raised as if he was scared to touch her.

“Draco, wha--?” She was cut off when one of his hands came up to her left cheek, fingertips barely ghosting over the skin as pure anger flashed through his eyes. Even though the touch was barely there, Hermione flinched at the sting of pain from her cheek and the sudden understanding of Draco’s actions rushed through her. The glamour she had cast to cover her injuries had been linked to Olivia’s face, and the ring was currently resting on the bedside table.

“Who did this?” Draco’s voice was ice as he spoke, his eyes hard as he drew his hand away, not missing her flinch of pain.

Hermione’s heart pounded in her chest. She had completely forgot about the bruises over the course of the night. It had always been her plan to heal her injuries directly after the party once she was alone, but she had allowed her unconscious desires to guide her into Malfoy’s room instead of to her own.

But now without the protection of her disguise, the deep purple bruising across her cheekbone was clear as day and had been immediately noticed by Draco returning from the bathroom.

“Who did this, Hermione?” Draco asked again as she swallowed hard.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out as fear at what he might do overtook her and she shook her head. Anger flared within him and Draco reached out to grip her upper arms, giving her a small shake. A small hiss of pain escaped her lips and she tried to pull back from him.

Immediately Draco removed his hands from her arms, looking down at the bruising that almost matched the exact prints of his hands where he had grabbed her. Horror washed over him as he let his eyes trail over her body, clad only in knickers and a strapless bra. There were dark bruises across her neck and chest, down her arms and to his horror, bruising and scratches on her upper thighs.

An ice-cold wave washed over him, and he took a step away from her, as if his mere presence near her would cause her pain. Hermione was rubbing at the residual pain in her arms, not realizing just how sore she actually was. The drink must have masked any pain she might have felt when they had been together earlier.

Draco stood stock still as he watched her. The anger he felt all but seeped from his pores. He wanted to lash out, to shake her until she told him who had hurt her, and then he wanted to hunt them down and gut them like the animal they were.

“Draco, I—” Hermione met his eyes and after a moment of silence, shook her head, her eyes pleading.

“I’m not going to ask again.” Draco said, using every ounce of strength he had to refrain himself from lashing out. “Who did this?”

Hermione’s brows furrowed together as she hugged her arms over her chest, feeling more vulnerable than she had ever before. Every rational part of her brain screamed at her to not tell him, to keep this secret to protect him because she knew that if she told him, he would get himself killed, if not by Greyback then by Voldemort himself. It had never been her intention to tell him about the attack and she cursed herself for being so stupid.

His reaction was everything she had expected it to be; pure rage seemed to radiate off of him as he stood inhumanly still in front of her, like a snake waiting to strike out at its prey. It was a side of Draco she had only seen once before, when Lucius had hurt them, and she knew only too well how that had ended.

After what felt like a lifetime of waiting, she finally spoke. “I can’t tell you.” Her voice was quiet but firm; her mind made up.

Anger flared in Draco’s icy gaze at her words and he all but snarled at her. Resisting the urge to reach out and grab her, but giving in to his need to hurt something, Draco spun and swung his first into the glass mirror that stood atop the dresser he stood in front of. Glass shattered around his hand and Hermione jumped at the action, eyes widening as she saw Draco pull his now bloody hand away.

Ignoring the anger coming off him in waves, she rushed forward but he held up a hand against her advance.

“Don’t.” He said sharply, ignoring the sting of the broken glass cutting into his flesh. “If you think that not telling me is going to stop me from hunting down whoever did this, you are seriously mistaken Granger. If you think that a lack of a name will keep me from torturing every person who wasn’t here tonight until they are begging for mercy for laying a single finger on you.”

His steel grey eyes met hers and he shook his head. “Do not mistake my lack of kills for a resistance to hurting people. You don’t get to my position in the Dark Lord’s ranks without causing a good deal of suffering.” 

Hermione swallowed hard against the lump in her throat. This is exactly the reason they should never have moved past war allies, she thought with a pang of guilt and horror. If they had kept things strictly professional, none of this would be happening. If she was simply the girl he had gone to school with whom he could barely stand, Draco wouldn’t even be entertaining thoughts of ruining everything they had worked for because someone had hurt her.

But that is exactly what he was thinking, because they hadn’t kept things professional. Because they had moved past that relationship the moment they had kissed in the library all those months ago. Because they cared about each other, more than either of them would admit to themselves or the other.

Feeling defeated, Hermione blinked against the sudden tears that sprung to her eyes and shook her head.

“Draco please, nothing good is going to come out of this if I tell you.”

“I can guarantee it.” Draco said through his teeth without hesitation.

Hermione’s brows furrowed and she took the final few steps to stand in front of him, resolved not to let this go further. She kept her voice firm and straitened herself against the uncomfortable vulnerability she felt. “I hurt him just as much as he hurt me. And I promise that when this is all over, I will tell you and you can do whatever you want. As long as I haven’t gotten to him first.”

Draco glared at her. “You’re going to tell me, Granger. Right now.”

Feeling angry now herself, Hermione shook her head sharply. “No, I’m not. And you can go running off to try and find them, but you know what the punishment for killing one of his ranks is without provocation.”

At this Draco raised his brows. “Without provocation?” He repeated incredulously. “Without provocation, Granger? Have you seen yourself? The bruise on your cheek is almost as big as my hand, not to mention the ones to rest of your body. Merlin knows what else this monster….” He trailed off as his eyes widened slightly.

He swallowed hard against the building horror he felt at the thought that just crossed his mind. The marks on her upper thighs flashed across his mind and he physically felt sick. “Hermione, did he--?” He couldn’t bring himself to finish the question.

Understanding immediately what he was asking, Hermione shook her head sharply. “No. He never got the chance.”

But from her tone and the injuries to her body, Draco knew that that had been the primary goal of whoever had attacked her. Hermione saw the shift in his features, and she reached out, cupping his face in her hands to focus his attention back on her and not on thoughts of ripping out the entrails of the man who had hurt her.

“He didn’t touch me, not like that. Please get that out of your head. Do you really think I would have had sex with you if I had just been raped?”

He narrowed his eyes at the word. “You didn’t seem to mind having sex with me when you were bruised and hurting to hell.”

Hermione took a deep breath and dropped her hands back to her side. “Because I feel safe with you. Because as soon as I got back, even though I was scared and panicked out of my mind, all I wanted to do was be next to you. This war is bigger than the both of us and as much as I try to tell myself that it doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as we win, I still feel what happens. And in that moment, no matter the bruising or the pain, I just needed you.”

The cold edges of his face softened by a miniscule amount. For a long minute, Draco didn’t say anything, simply stared down at her. He hated himself in that moment, because he had known something was wrong the moment she got back. Her skittish demeanor had been well enough to tell him, not to mention the now obvious pain reaction she had had when he touched her face in the ballroom. And he had been rough with her in the library, likely causing even more pain to her already injured body.

His glanced over her injuries once again before raising his eyes to meet her brown ones. “You’re really not going to tell me?”

A pained expression slipped across Hermione’s face and she made a small noise in her throat before shaking her head. “I can’t. Not right now. This is bigger than us Draco. This is bigger than me. The Order needs you for this to work. I need you.”

Her voice was small, and Draco hated how weak it sounded. He had seen her injured before but never had he seen it affect her. Whatever had happened, whoever had done this, had scared her more than she was willing to admit. Every other injury she had suffered during the war was for the greater good, it had never been personal until now.

Greyback had come after her simply because he had wanted to.

“As soon as this is over, you will tell me. Even if the Dark Lord wins.”

It wasn’t a question, Hermione noted as he fixed her with his cold grey eyes, it was a demand, an order. After a moment she nodded.

“Yes. I promise.” She said softly.

He held her gaze for a minute more before nodding sharply and turning away from her to stride back into the bathroom. Hermione watched him go, holding her breath. Him turning away from her hurt more than she cared to admit, and a sob threatened to break through the control she had been fighting so hard to keep.

Feeling shaken, Hermione turned away from the now closed bathroom door and gathered her dress and shoes off the floor. The air around her felt cold as she crossed the room quickly, fully intent on simply slipping back to her own room. She had been dismissed; Draco had left her standing in nothing but her underthings in the middle of his room.

Blinking quickly against the tears that threatened to spill from her eyes, she reached for the ornate silver doorknob.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

His voice startled her, and Hermione froze, not bothering to look over her shoulder.

“To my room. I’m tired.” She said simply, feeling oddly defeated.

“Hermione…” Draco crossed over to her quickly, gently placing his hands on her shoulders as he turned her to face him. His voice was softer compared to the pure ice it had been earlier, but Hermione refused to look up at him.

Seeing her attempt to avoid him, Draco brought a hand gently underneath her chin to tilt her head up to face him. Her eyes stayed downcast for a second more before flicking up to meet his. His brows were furrowed with a mix of emotion, obviously all at war within him.

“You’re not going anywhere, Granger.” He said firmly.

“But you—” Hermione cut off as she gestured towards the bathroom door.

“To get medication.” Draco replied. “You need healing, Granger and unless you’ve got bruise paste and a pain potion hidden in that getup.”

Realizing at once that his first thoughts after being furious at whoever had hurt her were to help her, Hermione was no longer able to keep the emotions at bay. Silent tears spilled from her eyes down her cheeks as the events of the night caught up with her.

Draco’s brows furrowed at the sight of her tears and he drew her to him, wrapping his arms around her protectively as she sobbed against his chest. At that moment she felt tiny and vulnerable in his arms, and he remembered what she had said about feeling safe with him. Tightening his hold, he dropped his lips to the top of her head and murmured against her hair.

“I’m not going anywhere. I will always be here.”

She cried harder at this and clenched her hands tight in the dress shirt that he still wore. After several minutes, Draco gently pulled away and led her back to the bed, sitting her down on the edge while he took the ointment he had brought with him from the bathroom and applied it liberally to her injuries. Almost at once the dark purple of her bruises started to lighten, but it did nothing to improve the simmering anger he held in control just below the surface.

By the time he had found and addressed every bruise and sore spot she had, Hermione had stopped crying and simply let him work on her. It wasn’t until he was rubbing at the marks on her legs did she see his own injuries. There were lacerations across the knuckles of his right hand, obtained by the assault on the mirror earlier.

Hermione blinked and pulled his hand from her thigh to examine it more closely.

“It’s fine.” Draco said, trying to pull away from her prodding fingers but she held on tight.

“No, it’s not.” The cuts were deep and while he had obviously cast a stasis charm over them to stop the bleeding, he must be in a decent amount of pain. Hermione reached towards the nightstand for her wand and Draco tried to pull away again.

Suddenly annoyed, Hermione gripped his forearm and met his eyes with a sharp glare. “You helped me, now let me help you.”

Her switch from crying to lecturing surprised him and after a moment, Draco relaxed his hand in her grip and nodded. Satisfied, Hermione pulled him down to sit next to her on the bed, examining his hand more closely. With a few muttered charms, the same ones in fact that she had used on him that day on the battlefield, the skin started to slowly knit back together.

Draco gritted his teeth against the pulling pain he felt across his hand and watched as she worked. When his hand was fully back to normal, Hermione dropped it and sighed. As she brought her eyes back up to meet his, he saw how tired she was. Shifting slightly he pulled her to him again, closing his eyes as she relaxed in his arms.

It didn’t take more than a few seconds for him to lean back on the bed and pull her with him, cradling her against his side as they lay on his large bed. With a flick of his wand, the lights around the room went out and he pulled the blankets to cover them. Hermione shifted against him and tucked herself against his chest, sighing contentedly in the cocoon of warmth and protection he had built for her. 

“Draco?” She said after a while of laying in the dark silence.

“Hm?” Came the muffled reply from above her. His chin was tucked against the top of her head and Hermione knew from his sleepy reply that he was on the edge of consciousness. In that moment of closeness, there was a million things that flitted through her mind that she wanted to say to him. A million more that she knew she would never be able to say.

So she said the only thing that felt right. “Thank you,” she murmured against his chest and wrapped her arm tighter around his waist

In the dark his eyes opened and he stared across the room into the darkness before passing his lips over her forehead, linger on the warmth of her skin. She was here and she was real; she was bruised but still whole. She was the strongest person he had ever known and because of her he had become a good person, someone who was willing to risk everything to do the right thing.

“No, Granger, thank you.”


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say 2 weeks for my next update? Ha shows what I know. That being said I do apologize for the delay. I try not to promise update days because my life has no order and I write as I find the motivation.  
> I'm starting to head towards the end of this story (don't worry, there are still several more chapters to write), but I wanted to open it up for any suggestions or requests. I can't promise to accommodate all of them but I always find it interesting and somewhat inspirational to hear the readers perspective while writing. I post as I write so honestly at this point the rest of the story is just little clips in my mind that pop up as I'm trying to fall asleep.  
> Anyways, I appreciate you guys for reading this experimental fic in the world of Dramione. I don't think I can ever go back :)

Early in the morning Hermione was jolted awake, the nightmare still lingering in bright images as she blinked into the blackness of Draco’s bedroom, half expecting to see Greyback standing at the end of the bed. Her heart pounded in her chest thinking about the ghostly feel of Greyback moving against her, getting further with his assault in her dreams than he had in real life. The residual ache of her injuries had added to the hyper-realism of the dream, and she stretched against the tightness that had settled in as she slept.

Draco shifted slightly at the movement making her freeze. Eyes adjusted to the darkness, Hermione looked over to where he still slept. One of his arms was thrown above his head while the rest of his body was starfished out across the large mattress. Hermione had a theory that his body rebelled at night against the strict constraints he was under throughout the day. His breathing was slow and shallow, obviously still deep in sleep.

Carefully, she lowered back down to the mattress and tried to shoo away the dreams. For several moments she lay there in the dark, staring up at the dark canopy above them while she listened to Draco steadily breathing next to her. Each time she closed her eyes to try and sleep again, the yellow of Greyback’s teeth would flash across her lids. Unconsciously, Hermione raised a hand to run her fingers gently over the spot on her neck that the werewolf’s teeth had connected with.

Beyond Bill and Lavender’s attack, Hermione had had the opportunity to deal with many werewolf attacks over the past few years. Greyback was not shy about recruiting members to his pack who were as insatiable as he was. Werewolves were everywhere in the wizarding world now, acting as a sort of patrol for Voldemort’s forces while taking their own pleasure in turning their victims. Thinking how close she had come to being exposed herself had Hermione shivering.

Slowly, the darkness around her started to feel claustrophobic, like a physical weight resting heavily on her chest. Feeling the familiar sense of panic return, Hermione quietly slipped out of bed and walked quickly to the bathroom, making sure to close the door firmly behind her before flicking on all the lights.

Draco’s bathroom was made of pristine black marble, a stark contract to the shiny white in hers across the hall. Shiny black fixtures glinted in the bright lights and Hermione went to the sink to splash water on her face. As she raised her head up, she met her own eyes in the massive mirror that stood above the sink.

The bruising was all but gone across her cheek and what she could see of her chest. A faint tinge of yellow ran across her cheekbone indicating that the bruise paste was just finishing up. Gingerly she probed the area, sighing when she didn’t feel the sharp sting of pain that had been present the night before. Her hand dropped to the counter as her gaze roamed over the rest of her body.

The war had taken a tole on all of them. Months of inconsistent food sources left everyone malnourished and even though Hermione had been eating like a queen over the past several months in the Manor, she was still smaller than she should be. The shirt she had borrowed from Draco’s closet hung loosely to mid-thigh, making her look like a child.

The realization that she was little more than a child hit her hard. In any other world she would have been just starting to figure out her life at 23 years old. She would have been exploring Europe with her parents and friends, trying to find the right path for her to pursue. But instead, she had been wrapped up in a war since she was 11. Her childhood had been marred by evil and had made her an adult much too early.

Blinking, Hermione clenched her jaw at the anger that seemed to bubble up inside. It wasn’t like her to let her emotions overtake her so easily, having always had strict control of her demeanor. It was her greatest asset as a witch and healer to have the ability of forcing her own feelings and reactions so deep inside in order to do the job that was required of her. It had been useful when using occlumency against Voldemort over the past few months, though each time was more and more exhausting to hold firm the wall she held so carefully in her mind.

But as the war drew on and on, though feeling so close to an end, Hermione found that the precise control she had always held was slowly slipping. The effect of years of terror was starting to show and that scared her. It wasn’t over yet, and she was in no position to start showing vulnerability now.

Yanking the shirt over her head, she strode purposefully over to the large marble tiled shower and flipped the water on, waiting patiently until steam rose up around her.

As she stood under the stream of hot water, she went over the events of the past several months. A small part of her wished that she never would have agreed to Draco’s plan that night in his room. If they lost the war, Hermione would have spent the last few months of her short life away from her friends, the only family she had left. And if they won, she would have started something with Malfoy that they would never be able to finish.

As much as her feelings for Draco had grown in their time together, being around him was not the same as being with the Order. In truth there were times when she felt like they were simply using each other as comfort during this period of unrest. But now she felt entangled with him, tied to him in a way she never would have anticipated. She both dreaded and looked forward to the end of the war, knowing that either way she was going to lose someone.

It was another thing she felt guilty for. People were dying and being tortured by the very people she was supposed to be fighting against, and instead here she was, enjoying the comforts of Malfoy Manor and its inhabitants. While muggles were being killed in their homes, she had been strutting around in an evening gown at a Christmas party. While her friends were trying to plan out the next step of their advance against the Dark Lord, she had been healing his followers.

The guilt quickly turned to disgust that rose like bile in her throat. Angrily, Hermione pushed her hair back from her face, swearing when her fingers caught and pulled at the snarls that she hadn’t bothered to brush out the night before. In the moment, the pain felt good. But it wasn’t enough, wasn’t enough of an outlet to release the wave of emotions that threatened to spill over. Heart pounding now, she stepped out of the shower and wrapped one of the large white towels securely around her.

Determined to go back to her own room and start working on a strategy to attack the snake, she strode purposefully towards the door. But a movement in the corner of her vision had her stopping. Once again Hermione found herself looking at her reflection in the large mirror, skin pink from the heat of the water and fire burning in her eyes.

It felt like she stared at herself for ages before moving again. Purposefully, she yanked open the cabinet next to the sink and started to rummage through Draco’s toiletries until she found what she was looking for.

Each snip of the scissors felt like a release for her, and it wasn’t long before long strands of wet, dark hair were falling onto the floor around her. Hot, angry tears burned at her eyes as she hacked at the limp locks that had previously fallen to the middle of her back. She barely felt her movements as she cut away at the long hair, felt her anger simmer down to numbness once again.

When it was over, Hermione shakily set the scissors down on the marble countertop and took a deep breath. It wasn’t until now that she realized how much of a weight the curls had held, how deflated they had become. A small smile slipped over her lips as she gazed at the now shoulder length mass of wet hair that was beginning to show signs of reverting back to the springy curls of her youth. The smile widened as she ran her hands through them, reveling in the sense of freedom that came at the feel of cool air that found her neck.

Feeling giddy on the residual adrenaline from her impromptu haircut, Hermione changed into jeans and a black sweater back in her own room. It was still in the very early hours of the morning, but Hermione knew that she would not be able to find sleep again. With a renewed sense of purpose, she went to the only place in this house where she could truly escape; the library.

Avoiding the couch that she and Draco had used the night prior, Hermione started to collect books from the expansive shelves. She had found the snake, and now needed to find a way to destroy it. They didn’t have access to Hogwarts as it was still under Voldemort’s control after the failed battle. The professors and students had been forced out, many of them joining the Order while others went into hiding with their families.

Using Basilisk fangs was out of the question as Draco had informed all of them that Voldemort had destroyed any remaining ones after realizing they could be used to destroy horcruxes. The sword had disappeared during the battle and was assumed to be in the possession of the Death Eaters who still held control over the castle. There was a small part of Hermione that had always disagreed with this theory, remembering how it had come to both Harry and Neville during their times of need.

But the theory that the sword would come to her if she went to destroy the snake was not something she was willing to stake everything on. There had to be other ways out there to destroy Horcruxes. Settling into the books that she had chosen; Hermione began her research.

***

Draco found her several hours later after waking up in his massive bed alone. Struggling against the urge to seek her out immediately, he had washed and dressed, having similar thoughts about the oddity of their relationship that Hermione had had. As they got closer to their goals of ending Voldemort’s regime, he was slowly starting to accept the reality of the consequences that would be waiting for him.

Hermione was set up at the large desk in front of the massive windows when he strode into the library after knocking at her bedroom door without answer. The stacks of books on the floor next to her looked like they had been haphazardly tossed away and Draco raised a brow at her uncharacteristic treatment of them.

Hermione looked up at the slight noise Draco made as he crossed the room to where she sat, and saw his eyes widen as he took in her new haircut. It was springy and curling around her face now that it had dried, and she could only imagine the mess it must look in his eyes. Resisting the self-conscious urge to raise her hand protectively to her hair, she stared back at him defiantly.

His first instinct was to react with concern. Even without knowing the extent of what she had gone through the night prior, his instincts told him that this was her way of coping with it. In a way he understood that, not that he had ever chopped off his hair due to frustration, but there were plenty of garden statues that no longer existed due to his temper.

And just as he understood the motives behind her new look, he also understood that it wasn’t sympathy she need right now. He had to admit though, the short cut suited her, and was much more attractive an outlet then leaving bits of stone scattered across the lawn. The cut was rough but reinstated her curls to the springy state they had been in their Hogwarts days. As a child her hair had looked chaotic and unkept, but as an adult, it was almost a reflection of the workings of her brilliant mind. Plus, Draco noted with pleasure, the wildness was incredibly sexy.

After a moment, the corner of his mouth twitched, and he continued his path to the desk.

Standing next to her chair, Draco looked down at her and reached out to pull one of the curls, watching with a smirk as it sprung up around her shoulders again.

“Run into a hacksaw did you Granger?”

Hermione’s mouth dropped open and she smacked at his hand that was still fingering her hair. Draco laughed at her actions, leaning his hip against the desk as she glared at him.

After a moment’s consideration he crossed his arms over his chest and tilted is head. “I like it.”

Hermione raised her brows as she leaned back in the large wing-backed chair and mirrored his pose. “Do you? Because I remember you not liking it very much the last time it looked like this.”

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly, not liking to be reminded of how terribly he treated her and her friends at school. “Touché. But that’s only because I had to sit behind you in class and it blocked my view.”

Hermione snorted and rolled her eyes, knowing very well that was not the reason for his comments. But still she relaxed under his gaze, finding that she had been slightly apprehensive about how he would react to the change. Instead of the expected defense of the cut, she watched him with appreciation as he turned his attention to the books scattered across the desk.

After a brief scan of the documents and titles she had been reading through, he flicked his eyes back to her. “I think it’s time you told me what you found yesterday.”

Nodding, Hermione launched into the story of what she had found in the caves. She told him of the hidden door and of her diagnostic spells, trying to tell him every detail but glossing over the dangers that she knew were associated with horcruxes. He wasn’t dissuaded though.

“It’ll be protected with incredibly dark magic.” Draco said as she finished updating him. “If Nagini is the last one, and if she is behind that door then the Dark Lord isn’t going to leave anything up to chance.”

“I know.” Hermione replied solemnly. It was something she had been trying to sort out along with the challenge of finding something to destroy the snake. If the spells protecting the door were more powerful than those that had been placed on previous horcruxes, she wasn’t sure if anyone attempting to get in would come out alive.

Sighing, Draco scrubbed a hand over his face and went to sit down in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. Hermione watched him and found with amusement she could almost see the wheels turning in his brain. For anyone else it would have been much too early to start thinking about these types of problems, but once again Hermine appreciated his intelligence.

After a minute, she broke the silence. “It’s enough of a challenge to provoke him enough to where he will personally show up to fight, and we know he’s going to leave Nagini behind to keep her safe. He doesn’t know that the Order knows she’s still alive. And he certainly isn’t about to parade her out in front of everyone after what Neville did to the other one at Hogwarts.” She took a breath as Draco listened silently. “But I think that’s to our advantage. If he thinks that Nagini is safe, then he won’t be as careful himself. He won’t be as defensive if he thinks there is still a piece of his soul sustaining him. If I can get to the snake without him knowing, I think we’d have a real chance to kill him.”

Draco’s grey eyes rose to meet hers across the desk. “If _you_ got to the snake?”

She swallowed, realizing it was another thing she had been hoping to gloss over. “Yes,” she said hesitantly before rushing into an explanation, though it irked her slightly to think that she needed one. “It only makes sense that I go, I know where to find the door and how to uncover it.”

“Granger we both know what powerful wards are capable of, and if he used those on the door then you wouldn’t even be able to get in let alone kill the snake.”

“I said they might be powerful wards.” Hermione emphasized. “We don’t know what sort of he used. They could very well just be illusionary protections like the ones that were on the locket and cup. Scary but not actually harmful. I’ve gotten through them before; I can handle doing it again.”

Draco furrowed his brows. “We both know they aren’t going to be like that this time. He knows about the other Horcruxes being destroyed. And even if he truly believes that Nagini is safe and that the Order doesn’t know about her, you can bet that he will still go to every length to protect her.”

And they had circled back.

“Yes.” Hermione huffed. “Which is why I need to be able to get to her before Harry can kill him.”

“Why can’t Potter deal with the snake himself? Isn’t it sort of his destiny to destroy the Dark Lord? All parts of him?”

“At this point does it really matter who get to him first?” Hermione asked, her tone betraying the building furstration. This is bigger than both of them, she thought silently, if only Draco understood that. “The opportunity to kill Harry is the final play we have to get Voldemort to show up at the battle. If he disappears to kill Nagini then you can be sure Voldemort will leave as well. Harry is the bait and the distraction. He can’t be two places at once.”

“But why do you have to be the one to kill the snake? I could just as easily do it? Or Weasley perhaps.” He added with a tone that had Hermione raising her brows.

“I don’t care who kills the snake. I only thought that since I knew where it was and that my presence, or Olivia’s presence actually, wouldn’t be suspicious in the caves, it would only be logical that I do it.”

“I could just as easily find my way around down there, more easily in fact, and I belong down there.”

His incessant need to always argue with her had her fuming. Flinging her hands up sharply, she pushed at the books on the desk. “Fine! I could care less who kills the bloody snake, just as long as it gets done. You want to kill the snake Malfoy, be my guest. But ultimately it will be up to the Order.”

Draco snorted and felt his own frustration grow. For all his work against his master, he was not a member of the Order and didn’t appreciate the thought of them ordering him about. As she had said, it didn’t matter who killed the snake, just as long as it was done.

“Then we’ll let the order decide.” He said, his steely gaze finding hers across the desk.


	34. Chapter 34

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a long one and has lots going on. Having written things from Hermione and Draco's viewpoints, I want to work under the assumption that things are still happening with Harry and the rest of the Order even though I don't explicitly write about them. Easy excuse for me as a writer but I'm just not patient enough to document every nuanced detail :)

The tension between them was evident the moment they stepped out of the floo in Grimmauld Place. What had started as an argument in the Library that morning had continued throughout a long day of research with quipped comments and angry looks. Hermione had been communicating with Harry through the Galleons to schedule a meeting for the evening, and even her tone relaying replies back to Draco was terse.

The house was buzzing with activity when they arrived. Obviously when Hermione had asked Harry to gather everyone so that she could tell them about her findings, he took it quite literally. Draco was immediately on edge given the energy level, feeling his muscles tense as adrenaline shot through his veins. Living in an isolated state at the Manor caused him to associate crowds with work for the Dark Lord. He felt a quick jolt of gratitude for Hermione, fully realizing just how alone he had been before she arrived.

But he wasn’t going to tell her that. Not when he was still angry with her for once again wanting to carelessly throw her life away. The sentiment that she kept bringing up, that this was bigger than them, was not one that he agreed with.

It was bigger than _him_ , he had agreed internally during their long day in the library. But it wasn’t bigger than her. He understood her drive to want to give her life for the cause in order to secure the future for the generations of witches and wizards to come. But what was the point of all this work if people like her didn’t survive? If every good person died for what they believed in, then who would be left to keep the cowards from taking over.

Draco had long ago accepted that his life was forfeit. Be it by his own choice or not, he had gone down the path laid before him and was willing to face the consequences. In truth there was a deep part of him that hoped he wouldn’t make it to the end of the war. It was a fantasy he had dreamed of regularly before Granger plopped herself into his life. It was a cowards escape, but it was a much more preferable end then wasting away at Azkaban.

But Hermione, he thought as his eyes flicked over to her as they had poured over books about dark magic. Hermione was going to be among the ones who picked up the pieces after everything else was destroyed. She was going to be the one who worked to unite the blood classes, who fought for the rights of magical creatures, who used her immense skill and knowledge to heal the wizarding community just as she would heal her patients.

He was going to make sure of it.

Resolve had settled in over the initial anger he had felt with her. She had done what she came for as far as he was concerned. They had chosen to work with him in order to find a means to Voldemort’s end; and they had done that.

Draco knew that her time with him was over. Her place was with her friends and family now, certainly not with him. It was selfish of him to want her to continue on when they had found what she had been there to find.

He could handle the snake. The charms around the door certainly didn’t scare him; the threat of death not effective for someone who had accepted his fate. It was a decision that he had made slowly throughout the day, fighting between the pull of his own personal desires and what was the right thing to do. Who would have known that he, Draco Malfoy, would ever be in such a dilemma. He was sure that no one would consider him a good person if they knew what he had done, the pain he had invoked. But his decision wasn’t about him being a good person; it was about being selfless enough acknowledge that this was bigger than him.

But not bigger than her. And when he returned home to the Manor, Hermione Granger would not be going with him.

***

While Draco had been reaching his resolve, Hermione had been left fuming. His initial dismissal of her plan to handle the snake had stung. Hadn’t after everything they had been through, hadn’t she proven herself? Hadn’t she proven that she was smart and capable enough to figure out a way past the enchantment to get to Nagini?

Being told that you’re the brightest witch of your age starts out as a warming compliment, but then it becomes an expectation. There were times during school where Hermione pushed herself to the breaking point simply to uphold the reputation that she had stupidly made for herself. If only she realized then how insignificant school performance would be to her now, maybe she would have enjoyed her time at Hogwarts more.

There had always been an incessant need to prove herself at school. Prove that she was just as worthy as magic as someone born into a dynasty of it. And she had proven it. She had excelled in her studies, gained more skill in a year than others would take a decade to learn. She could recite passages from magical texts from memory, knew every little nuanced spell in their textbooks, understood the complexities of magical medicine. But none of it mattered.

Voldemort didn’t care how smart she was, neither did any of his followers. On the battlefield no one would spare her simply because of her outstanding O.W.L.s. Her knowledge wouldn’t serve as a shield for the killing curse; Dumbledore had dispelled that theory that horrible night in the astronomy tower.

But there was some pride she held in the skills and knowledge and reputation that she had. She was Hermione Granger, someone whose name invoked respect and immediate knowledge of her abilities. She hated it, but she found that she hated Draco dismissing her skills even more.

She could handle the snake. And she would with or without his help. She was a part of his world now no matter whose face she wore, and it was no longer up to him what she did. If she wanted to march into the caves, she could very well do so on her own, _had_ done so on her own. He had been her introduction, but she no longer needed his permission.

***

The building tension in the wizarding community over the past few weeks signaled the end was near. On both sides everyone was on edge. Voldemort was flitting between the mansions of his followers, all the while keeping up the façade that he was going on a “victory tour” where in reality, he was rallying his followers. Amassing them so that when the building tension finally broke, he would have his army at his back.

Hermione had been updating the Order throughout her time with Draco about the movements of Voldemort’s forces. The Order had gone on the offensive of late. Besides their targeted attacks to goad Voldemort into action, they had started taking back institutions in the wizarding world and conducting higher stakes raids. This tactic worried Hermione given the increasing fury she could sense whenever she was in the snake pit. These victories cost the Order greatly, and she was worried that when the final effort came, they wouldn’t have enough forces.

“You’re here! And your hair! Oh I love it Hermione!”

The happy cry shook Hermione out of her moment of reflection, and she blinked into the living room, finding Ginny rushing towards them with a bright smile. Pregnancy had changed the girl both physically and emotionally. Gone was the shell of the woman who had lost so much with little hope for the future and in her place was a mother, hopeful for her baby’s future and protective as the lioness she was.

The swell of Ginny’s five-month pregnant belly pressed against Hermione as the women embraced. Hermione smiled at the small reminder of things worth fighting for and gripped her friend hard.

“How are you?” She asked when they pulled apart, quickly scanning the witches face.

Ginny laughed slightly, the rosy glow of her cheeks betraying the new surge of health that had overtaken her. “I’m good. Better than good, really. I haven’t felt like this in years.” She beamed and ran a hand unconsciously over her stomach. “I’d have gotten pregnant a long time ago if I’d known I’d feel like this.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing quite well that the first few months of Ginny’s pregnancy were not at all blissful with the constant vomiting and mood swings. She didn’t say anything though, not wanting to even momentarily take Ginny away from the giddy happiness she was apparently basking in. It felt good to be in her presence after what felt like months of darkness.

“And how are you? Both of you?” Ginny asked, graceful enough to include Draco as she glanced up at the man still standing in front of the fireplace just behind Hermione.

Hermione didn’t bother looking back to him. It was her goal to avoid him as much as possible today to keep any feelings other than determination away. She knew that if she let him back in before she had the opportunity to present her ideas to the Order council, he would try to guilt her into backing out.

Instead, she plastered a tight smile on her face. “We’re fine. It’s been an interesting week.”

Ginny nodded, though there was a slight furrow between her brows as she glanced between the two. Draco was glowering, even more than usual and Ginny could almost reach out and pluck at the strings of contention between them. “I can tell.” She said warily.

When Hermione offered no further explanation, and Draco seemed determine to remain as impassive as usual, Ginny sighed and gestured with her hand.

“We may as well go in now that you’re here.” She said, indicating the direction of the dining room turned war-room. “It’s been absolute chaos all day. Kingsley and Lupin have been shut up almost all week making plans for whatever final battle there will be. And Harry’s been round to different raiding camps to start gathering support when they finally announce things. There’s people here from all over, I think I even saw Krum earlier.”

Hermione didn’t miss the roll of Draco’s eyes at the Quidditch players name and she wished they were on better terms at the moment so she could call him out on it.

The three of them found the room packed with people. Most of the previous Order meetings had involved the main council, including those from positions at the fallen Ministry. Depending on the reasoning for the meeting, different groups of the resistance would show up. But tonight it seemed that truly everyone was here.

There were camps stationed all throughout the UK and Europe, each doing their own part to fight off the chaos that Voldemort and his followers were inflicting. While their numbers were depleting, their resolve was only growing stronger.

Hermione felt the energy the moment they walked into the room. This was the beginning of the end and everyone knew it. The final battle was on the horizon and when the chosen one summoned them to headquarters, they came.

Several people looked up towards the small group as they entered and Hermione felt suddenly nervous as the room hushed. There were looks of anger in Draco’s direction, many of the newcomers not knowing that he was working with them. Some even reached for their wand but were met with sharp glares from others in the room who were aware of his status.

Hermione froze for a moment before meeting Harry’s eyes across the room. She could see the fatigue in them, but also the fiery determination hiding behind the green irises. He nodded to her before Kingsley stood from his place at the head of the table. The movement pulled the attention off the newcomers and as Kingsley began to speak, Hermione, Draco and Ginny moved further into the room. They found standing room next to Neville and settled there as everyone listened.

“Friends,” Kingsley began, his deep voice filling the already packed room, commanding attention with a single word. “Thank you all for coming. I understand the inconvenience of being summoned on such short notice, but it is only for the most important of times.”

Hermione, along with the rest of the room, was captivated by the man speaking. There was no doubt in her or anyone else’s mind who would be the face of the revival if they were to be successful in their efforts. His presence demanded respect just as his words demanded attention.

“We have spent years shrouded in fear and pain,” Kingsley continued, letting his almost black eyes roam over the group. “We have lost, and we have suffered. But our efforts were not in vain. As we have lost, we have gained bitterness and anger that only made us fight harder against those who would seek to oppress us. And now it is time to end it.”

Some in the crowd shuffled and the energy shifted against Hermione’s skin. So much magic in the room wanting to act, begging to be released.

“Plans have been laid for a final act against he-who-must-not-be-named, and it is time they are shared so that we can take back our freedom. So that we can once again claim our lives from the terror of the enemy.”

A few hoots sounded from the room and Kingsley immediately raised a hand to silence them.

“Over the past several months we have mounted several attacks, personal attacks, against his forces. Our sources have reported increased agitation in the Death Eaters but even more importantly, increased agitation in _him_. We have taken places he holds sacred and decimated them, just as we will decimate him. He can feel us breathing down his neck with each battle that we win, with each raid we pull off.”

Several of the groups from the raiding camps grinned widely and nodded, clearly proud of their involvement in the recent victories. Hermione’s eyes flicked over the different people huddled shoulder to shoulder in the large room. Briefly she wondered how many would be lost in their efforts.

“We have all done our part.” Kingsley continued. “We have all sacrificed and I understand the exhaustion we all feel. But it’s not over yet. The Dark Lord is on the run, but we still haven’t won.”

The dark eyes landed on her across the room and Kingsley inclined his head. She was the reason they called this meeting. Even with the war continuing around them during her isolating time at the Manor, they waited on her and Draco to discover the key to success.

“Hermione.” Kingsley invited, once again bringing the focus of the room back to her.

Swallowing against the self-doubt that rose at the attention, Hermione stepped forward slightly. The story of Voldemort’s horcruxes was well known throughout the Order and its followers. But knowledge of a surviving horcrux had been kept in the tight inner circle of the council.

It was time to share that information.

Even as annoyed as she was with him, Hermione drew on Draco’s energy just behind her, using his presence to give her strength. Taking a deep breath she let her eyes wander around the room, flitting between strangers and loved ones as she spoke. “Several months ago we discovered the survival of a horcrux.”

It was plainly put but the reaction was immediate. Several people shifted, the shock of the announcement that they had been fighting against an immortal force evident on their faces. Believing that Harry had destroyed all the pieces of Voldemort’s soul had been the thing that kept many of these groups going through the war. Knowing that Voldemort was mortal just as they were had given them hope, and to find out now that they had always been fighting a losing battle…

“The snake survived, and we didn’t know it.” Hermione continued over the small murmurs of anger that sprung up at her words. “I’ve seen it personally. He keeps it hidden in their headquarters, but we know where it is now and can destroy it.”

“I thought Longbottom already got the snake?” Someone from across the room said loudly.

Neville shifted uncomfortably next to her and looked towards his feet, as if he were ashamed of not killing the correct snake. As if he should have known any different.

“Neville killed one of them.” Hermione said, bristling at the thought of her friend feeling ashamed for his heroic actions. “One that very well could have also been a horcrux itself, but Voldemort had two snakes. Even Dumbledore only knew about the one so for years we’ve assumed that the horcruxes were gone. But Nagini is still alive. He keeps her in a hidden room in the caves when he isn’t there, and by his side when he is.”

“And you are sure of it’s location?” Kingsley asked from his place at the head of the room.

Hermione nodded as she met Kinglsey’s eyes, “Positive.”

“How we going to kill it?” An Irish woman spoke up.

“The sword.” Harry said simply and Hermione smiled slightly at the linear transition of his thoughts. “It’s come to us when we most need it. It’ll come to me for this, I’m sure of it.”

Eyes fell on the chosen one, so confident in his role now.

“But the sword wouldn’t be going to you Harry.” Remus Lupin said. “Someone else will be killing the snake while you are drawing out Voldemort.”

A momentary look of confusion passed across Harry’s face. So much had been asked of him over the course of his lifetime that it was almost as if he couldn’t understand how something so momentous as killing a horcrux could happen without him.

Lupin took a deep breath and stood from his spot at the table. Over the years he had functioned as a primary member of the council and had obviously been instrumental in the final plans as he began to lay them out before the gathering.

“The day after tomorrow,” Lupin began, his voice stern and serious. “We will attack Hogwarts.”

Another shift sped through the crowd. Hogwarts had been held by the Death Eaters and no one had been able to get in since the day of the battle there. It felt like a suicide mission to attack the school so fiercely protected, but it was also the only thing left that Voldemort was connected to deeply enough that he would personally protect it.

“Our curse breakers have been working on the wards for months now and are confident that we can breach them. It will take a tremendous amount of magic which is why we need everyone. This is the final battle whether we win or lose. There is no room in this plan for people to sit out, we need everyone we can get.”

The group nodded. There was really no need to ask; each of them had given themselves to the cause long before this.

“He will come because of the castle, and because of Harry. If there is anything we have learned about Voldemort it is that he thinks himself invincible. And while the snake still lives, he is.” Lupin flicked his eyes over the group. “Once the snake is killed, Voldemort can be defeated once and for all.”

“Who’s going to get the snake then if Potter is at the castle with the rest of us? Doubt Voldy will bring his security blanket to a fight.” Dean Thomas spoke. He had been part of the raiding group in Northern Ireland and very much looked like he had suffered through a war.

There was a moment of silence before eyes started to shift in Hermione’s direction. She hadn’t wanted to speak out about her own plans to get to the snake, wanted to let people jump to the obvious conclusion. A part of her resolve was to show Draco up and she smirked inwardly when she felt him stiffen beside her. He had agreed that they would leave it up to the Order, and now it seemed that the Order had decided.

“The sword will come to a Gryffindor.” Lupin said simply, meeting Hermione’s eyes with a nod. His words were simple but were enough of a declaration to charge Hermione with the task of destroying the snake.

“I can do it.” Hermione said.

Draco who had been silent up until this point glared down at her. Her bold determination to carry out her role in this plan grated at his nerves. He hadn’t spent months protecting her just so she could go waltzing into danger, especially when she wasn’t telling them the full story of what it would cost her.

He had been convinced that as soon as she volunteered for the task there would have been cries of protest at the Gryffindor princess being in harms way just as there had been when it was first suggested that she go undercover with him. But now her role in the plan was simply accepted without even a question, and his careful hold on his anger slipped. Not even her friends had spoken up to deter her from the likely death sentence she had just handed herself. But then he realized that they hadn’t spoken up because they had all resigned themselves to their own sentences.

While they would fight with everything they had against the powers that had tortured their society for so long, the severity of what they were about to attempt tomorrow was not lost on anyone. It no longer mattered that they might lose a powerful asset because after tomorrow night, there might not even be an Order. No one was outraged at Hermione’s task because each one of them would face death tomorrow.

It was the grim look of acceptance that stopped Draco from speaking out, from demanding that they find someone else. Who could they turn to if not Hermione? Whose life would be deemed less valuable than hers? Draco knew the answer to that question.

Trusting that Hermione would complete her mission, the meeting continued with a grave tone, detailing the rest of the plans. They must have been in there for several hours as plans were finalized and perfected, everyone receiving strict instructions to take back to their groups. Throughout the meeting the mood in the room continued to grow darker and darker as people fully realized how difficult what they would be attempting in two days would be. Their chances of success against the many, many obstacles in their way was slim to none. But when Kingsley adjourned the meeting well past midnight, there was a set look of determination on everyone’s faces.

As the room started to clear out, Hermione let out a small sigh and finally turned around to look at Draco who had stood stock still behind her throughout the entire meeting.

“I guess the Order has decided.” She said quietly, no sense of gloating in her tone.

His expression was impassive as he looked down at her. She had decided and resigned herself to her fate just as he promised himself that he would never let it happen.

“I don’t answer to the Order.” He said quietly, his expression that of the pure Death Eater that he was. He watched as her brows furrowed at his impassive tone. It had been some time since he had spoken to her with so little emotion.

“Draco—” She started to say but was cut off as Harry came up besides them.

“Hermione.” Her friend greeted them, brows raised as he looked between them, conscious of the obvious tension he had interrupted. “Malfoy.”

“Potter.” Draco said coldly, his grey eyes never leaving Hermione’s face.

After a moment of awkward silence, Harry cleared his throat causing both of them to look over in question. He held up his hands instinctively in defense at their heated stares.

“What Harry?” Hermione said tersely.

His black brows shot up at her question. “No need to bite my head off.” He said and Hermione huffed in annoyance. “Just wondering if you’re staying the night?”

The unspoken question was easily identified: Just wondering if I’ll see you again before we go to our deaths?

Hermione blinked and something crossed across her expression. Glancing up at Draco, she turned back to Harry and nodded.

“Of course. I’m sure there is more to be sorted in the morning, plus we’ll need to find the hat.” The sorting hat had been stashed away in the attack of the house, taken from Hogwarts by a fleeing Minerva McGonagall.

Harry nodded grimly before pulling Hermione into a tight hug. People glanced at the small group as they shuffled past, some still shooting glares at the resident death eater. Hermione sighed at the looks and pulled back from Harry, smiling slightly at him.

“Where’s Ron?” She asked, looking around the room for the red head. She had seen him briefly at the start of the meeting, but then had lost track of him in the bustle of everyone leaving.

Harry chuckled and shook his head. “Probably with Lavender.”

Hermione’s brows shot up and Harry only grinned wider. “Lavender? Really?”

Harry only nodded. “She’s not the same as she used to be.”

Hermione smiled but then her face fell for a moment. “Are any of us?”

Harry furrowed his brows and glanced over at Draco who was still standing silently besides them. No, he thought, none of them were the same. And no matter how this ended, none of them would ever be the same again.

“Malfoy, you’re welcome to the room you had last time. It’ll be good to get your help on the final details tomorrow if you’re willing.” Though something deep in Harry told them that none of them would be spending the night alone.

Draco met the green eyes with a nod. “Of course.”

With that, Harry gave Hermione a final hug before seeking Ginny out. He would want to spend every moment he could with her. Ginny wouldn’t be fighting at the final battle, instead she would be waiting here while her friends, family and the father of her child went off to fight. Hermione couldn’t imagine how the witch must feel staying behind but was very grateful that she had enough sense to stay away from the danger.

Without another word to each other, Hermione and Draco made their way up the stairs to their respective bedrooms. There was no exchange of good nights between them, barely even a glance as Hermione continued up the stairs to her own bedroom while Draco shut the door hard on his.

Once alone in the familiar setting, Hermione leaned back against the closed door and shut her eyes. It had been a long day all around, but it was Draco’s icy demeanor toward her that was the most exhausting. They were supposed to be a team in this, she thought as she pushed away from the wall angrily.

Still fuming, she showered quickly and changed into the pajamas that she hadn’t worn in months, finding that she missed the oversized shirts she had been stealing from Draco’s clsoet. The bed that was once a safe haven for her now felt empty and cold and she lay there in the dark, trying to find a comfortable position. She didn’t want to seek him out now. He was being a git, she reminded herself after almost an hour of laying wide awake.

But even as she was trying to convince herself of what an arse he was, she was slipping out of bed and padding to the door. The house was quiet as she crept down the stairs towards her destination, though small noises behind some of the closed doors betrayed the occupant’s restless states. When she reached Draco’s door, Hermione took a deep breath before turning the handle.

The room was pitch black, but she found her way across the wooden floor, familiar with the layout from her time sorting through the old house with Harry and Ron. She could hear Draco’s breathing in the otherwise quiet room and knew form the depth and pace that he was sleep. Moving quietly, she reached the edge of the bed and stealthily slid under the covers.

It hadn’t been her intention to wake him, more so to seek out the comfort she had grown used to at the Manor. It was odd to feel lonely here at Grimmauld Place where she was surrounded by people that loved her, but she couldn’t shake the feeling.

Draco shifted next to her as she nestled deeper into the covers and came awake with a start as he realized that he was no longer alone in the bed.

“Granger?” He whispered into the dark, reaching out with his hand which found her arm in the dark.

“It’s just me.” Hermione whispered back, feeling the warmth of his fingers settle on her.

Draco didn’t say anything for a moment before he sighed and bodily pulled her towards him in the bed. His arms wrapped around her as she nestled into his chest, grateful for his acceptance in that moment. They may be fighting, but even in anger they needed each other.

He was warm against her as Hermione wrapped an arm around his waist and pressed her cold fingers to the bare skin of his back causing him to hiss out a breath and flinch away from her touch.

“Sorry.” She said, smiling slightly to herself.

Draco made a noise in his chest but only tightened his arms about her. “No you’re not.”

The exchange encompassed much more than her use of his back for a hand warmer. And he was right, she wasn’t sorry. She wasn’t sorry for the part she must play in this war, no matter how much he wanted to hate her. She couldn’t be sorry if it meant helping free the wizarding world from death.

“No, I’m not.” She said quietly before pulling back from his chest and lifting her head to look up at him in the darkness.

He moved as well and looked back at her. After a moment, he let whatever residual anger he had left slip away. Reaching up, he cupped her face and ran a thumb over her cheekbone, hearing her small intake of breath as he moved lower to trace the outline of her lips.

“If you’d have known,” he said quietly. “What would happen between us, would you still have agreed to work with me?”

Hermione blinked in the darkness. If she had known that this man, her childhood bully would somehow slowly become one of the most important people to her? If she had known how safe and complete she felt around him? If she had known how fully she would lose her heart to someone she wasn’t supposed to be with? Would she still have made the choice knowing that theirs was a story destined to end short?

“Yes.” She breathed out, never surer of anything in her life.

“Me too.” Draco said after a moment of silence before lowering his head to hers to claim her lips.

He kissed her slower and more deeply than ever before, lips moving lazily over hers as if memorizing the feel of them. When she sighed, he claimed her even more deeply, drawing out her tongue to dance with his as his hand moved back into her hair.

It was a kiss of resolution, a goodbye kiss, Hermione realized with a start. Suddenly angry at the thought of losing him, Hermione gripped him tighter and shifted the kiss into one of urgency. Her teeth drew his bottom lip to her and his grip on her hair tightened before he pulled away.

Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at him confused, her heart racing in her chest.

Slowly, he moved his hand to trace the line of her face, moving towards her and rolling until he was above her. “We have tonight.” He said as he settled his hips between her legs. “I intend to savor it.”

Hermione reached up to cup his face in her hands, nodding against the emotion that welled up in her throat. “Okay.” She said simply before he leaned down to claim her once again.

They moved slowly, kissing deeply for what felt like hours. She could feel his hardness pressed against her, but he made no move to advance things further, as if he wished to drown in her kisses. Their fingers trailed softly over every inch of each other’s bodies, whispering over now heated skin as they lost themselves.

Eventually, they each divested the other of their clothes, gasping when their naked flesh finally connected. He kissed her as he ran his hand lower over her folds, gently tracing the aching part of her body before slipping one finger into her. Hermione gasped and arched her back at the movement, the sensitivity built up over the past hour overwhelming her.

Draco simply swallowed her gasp with his lips as he started to move his hand, adding another finger as he pumped them into her. He wished the lights were on full blast so he could watch her. He knew that her eyes were squeezed tight as she made small noises of pleasure. The brown curls would be fanned out around her like a halo, leaving her unobscured in their new short state.

The image he was painting in his mind made him growl against her throat, the urge to take her almost overwhelming. She was beautiful, much to beautiful for someone as marred as him. There was nothing about her that he deserved but he knew that given the chance he would do everything he could to prove himself.

He pressed his palm against her clit and Hermione lost her focus in the kiss, her lips immobile against Draco’s. He hovered over her, revealing in the way she withered against him. Her small gasps and moans filled his ears and he allowed himself to get lost in her pleasure.

Hermione dug her nails into Draco’s upper arms as the sweet pressure built to a burn at the base of her belly and soon her hips were rolling against his hand, riding him slowly as he moved his lips along her jawline to meet hers again.

“Come for me.” He whispered against her lips as he started to move his hand faster and she was only too happy to oblige.

The waves that washed over her body stole her breath away as she arched underneath him, the slick walls of her cunt gripping his fingers like a vice. Draco groaned and bent to kiss her again, removing his fingers from her and replacing them swiftly with his cock. He thrust into her with a single movement, catching the end of the pulsing pleasure she felt.

Hermione cried out as he entered her, feeling him slip a hand under her back to press her hips closer to his. Her body continued to contract around him as he stayed still above her, arms braced around her head as she took shuttering breaths.

It wasn’t until he felt her relax underneath him that he began to move, pumping into her slowly. It wasn’t long before her hips were rising to meet his slow thrusts and Draco dropped to bury his face in her neck, holding her with every ounce of strength he had.

And yet he still kept his slow and steady pace, letting the fire burn brighter and brighter without losing control. He was breathing heavily in her ear, both from exertion but also from the hold he held over his desires. Hermione felt his muscles bunch under her wandering hands and knew how much he was trying to hold back from her.

Turning her head, she ran her lips lightly across the cheek that was pressed to hers.

“Draco let go. It’s okay.” She whispered in his ear and felt his grip tighten on her for just a moment.

The change was immediate, and Hermione cried out as he snapped his hips hard against hers, raising up on his knees as he pulled her with him. The change in position was dizzying and Draco kept a grip on her arse as she straddled his thighs, wrapping her arms around his neck for balance.

He thrust up against her just as his hands snapped her hips against his. They rode each other, slick heat gripping him like a vice. Hermione leaned back slightly in his arms and started to move faster, sweat beginning to trickle down her back as she panted against him.

“Hermione… I’m…” His voice was halted, and Hermione felt a small flair of triumph at his loss of control. She felt his grip tightened and sped up the movement of her hips, riding him with everything she had.

With what felt like an electric shock through his body, Draco emptied himself into her. His cock pulsed against her walls as he cried out her name. Hermione gripped him to her as he shuddered against her body, feeling the impossible pressure of his hands around her back, knowing that there would be new bruises on her hips in the morning.

Slowly he came down from his high, pressing his lips against her chest where his head had fallen in his release. He could vaguely feel her playing with the hair at the base of his neck and a shiver raced down his spine at the touch. Pulling away, he looked at her, fully aware of his member still seated deep within in.

Hermione smiled softly at him then squeaked when his hands released her, and she fell quite unceremoniously back on the bed.

With what seemed an impossibly quick movement for someone coming out of an orgasmic comma, Draco grabbed her legs and flipped her onto her stomach. Hermione protested slightly but then gasped as the feel of his fingers finding her heat again. His lips met the middle of her back as he leaned over her.

“I told you I intend to savor this Granger.”

Hermione shivered at the feel of his breath on her back as she wantonly pressed her hips back against his fingers. “I intend to let you.” She replied teasingly, knowing very well that there was little he could ask her to do in this moment that she wouldn’t agree to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing smut is definitely my guilty pleasure :D  
> I have no idea when I'll be posting next but stay tuned!


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter chapter today but I needed to fill in some time to move things along. I've got the rest of the story mapped out, but just need to get to the tipping point when things hit the fan. Hope you all are having a good holiday season!

Hermione woke first early the next morning, smiling to herself as Draco’s toned arms tightened around her waist at her movement. Immediately she stilled, revealing in the warmth and safety of those arms, wishing they could stay in the cocoon of blankets around them until the war was over. His breath tickled the curls by her ear and she turned her head to softly press her lips against his cheek before gently removing his arms from her waist.

After gathering her pajamas from the floor and dressing stealthily, she left Draco still asleep on the large bed and slipped out of the room into the still dark hallway. As the door closed quietly behind her, she heard someone clear their throat and whipped her head towards the sound.

Harry stood a few feet down the hall from her, his eyebrows raised and mouth agape as he held a towel and toothbrush that were clearly accompanying him to the bathroom next to Draco’s room. If possible, his eyes grew wider as they took in her messy hair and the bedraggled appearance of her clothes.

“Hermione….” Harry started to ask, his eye flicking over to the door that she had just exited. “Were you just in Malfoy’s bedroom?”

Hand still on the doorknob, Hermione looked over at the closed door, wondering if she could get away with denying it. Given that he had actively seen her leaving the room, it was unlikely.

“Yes.” She said simply, not feeling the need to provide more details than asked for.

Harry cleared his throat again and raised a hand to run through his own messy hair, clearly uncomfortable at having caught the woman he considered his sister performing a walk-of-shame after apparently spending the night with his childhood enemy.

“Right,” he said awkwardly.

Hermione would have been laughing as she watched Harry process the situation, had she not been feeling just as uncomfortable as he was. There was no reason to hide her relationship with Draco, if one could even call it that. But she certainly didn’t want her best friend to find out like this.

“So when did this happen?” Harry asked, his gaze now focused somewhere around her left ear, feeling too embarrassed to meet her eyes.

Taking a step away from the door, as if trying to distance herself gave her plausible deniability, Hermione kept her eyes on Harry. “Umm, I suppose since Ireland.”

At this Harry’s eyes flicked over to her own in surprise. “Ireland? Hermione that was months ago!” He said, louder than necessary and Hermione held up a hand to shush him. The only other person on this floor was Ron, and she certainly didn’t want him waking up to investigate what was happening in the hallway. Harry finding out like this she could deal with, but she could only imagine Ron’s reaction to find her sneaking out of Malfoy’s room at this hour of the morning.

“Hermione, it’s Malfoy.” Harry said with indignation, though much quieter now, as she moved over to him.

She huffed out a breath at this. After the months of Malfoy helping the Order, she would have hoped that the initial reaction wouldn’t immediately circle back to this.

“Yes, thank you, I hadn’t noticed.” She said sarcastically and Harry raised his brows at her. Sighing, she took another few steps towards him. “It’s not like I planned for this to happen you know.”

Harry saw her face fall slightly and furrowed his brows. He had watched Hermione pull further and further into herself as the war went on, each year becoming more and more of a shell of the person that she used to be. There was no denying her commitment and service to the war effort and to the Order, but the spark of life that used to blaze in her deep brown eyes hadn’t been there in some time. But he had noticed it sporadically flickering back to life over the course of the past few months. Initially he had just assumed that it corresponded with her newfound role and optimism that things were going to change, but now he could see that there may be another reason behind it.

And who was he to deny her any happiness that she was able to glean during these horrific times. He was her family just as she was his, and if Harry really thought about it, Malfoy wasn’t so bad nowadays. Seeing Hermione’s crestfallen face, like she was expecting a lecture from him on why what she was doing was wrong, hurt more than he cared to admit.

With a sigh of his own, Harry reached up and rubbed his fingers against his temple. After another moment of silence, he raised his eyes to find Hermione watching him with resigned expectations.

“Are you happy?”

It clearly wasn’t the line of inquiry that she was expecting as her brows jumped up before furrowing in confusion.

“Yes?” She replied, entirely thrown by his question. Even though she had thought that Harry would be the more understanding between him and Ron, she hadn’t thought that his reception to the news of her and Malfoy would be met with anything less than several minutes of lecture.

“And he’s treating you alright?” Harry asked, not even slightly wanting to know just how Malfoy was _treating_ Hermione given the obvious nature of her visit to his room.

Hermione blushed at the implication of his words and she tucked some errant curls behind her ears. “Of course he is, I wouldn’t allow anything else. Harry, what--?” She shook her head in confusion as she met his eyes in the dimly lit hall.

Harry held up a hand to cease her words and took a deep breath, as if he himself couldn’t believe what he was about to say. “That is all I have ever wanted for you, you know?” He smiled slightly. “Even in this bloody war, all I have ever wanted is for you to be happy, to have the spark that you used to have, the love for life like you used to. I’ve watched you walk through the motions like a zombie, Hermione, and that has hurt more than any curse.”

Hermione bit her lip as her brows furrowed, a tightness growing in her chest as Harry continued.

“And as long as you are happy, I could care less who made you that way. I’d even go as far as to thank them.” Hermione’s brows shot up in surprise and Harry quickly shook his head. “But there is no way in hell I will be doing so in Malfoy’s case, that’s just too weird. But I’m on your side, just like you’ve always been on mine.”

Slightly stunned at his words, Hermione blinked against the well of emotion that crept up and caused a film of moisture to form across her eyes. She wasn’t one for crying, though she was doing her fair share of it lately. “Harry…” She said softly, unsure of what exactly she could say to him, instead settling for reaching out her hand to grasp his.

“He’s different.” She said finally and Harry nodded.

“He’d have to be to get you to fall for him.”

Hermione rolled her eyes but kept her hand tight around Harry’s. She met his eyes and was once again grateful for her friend, for not being alone in this lonely, lonely world.

“Thank you.” She said quietly, truly meaning it as she squeezed his hand.

Harry nodded and sighed, tugging on her hand to pull her into a hug. With the finals moves of the war looming so close, being able to be there for her meant so much more. He didn’t know how things would turn out, and whether they win or lose, their lives were going to change. This was a time to hold your friends closer, not push them away.

Hermione rested her cheek against Harry’s shoulder and closed her eyes briefly, her thoughts echoing his. This wasn’t about Malfoy; they could have been having this conversation about anyone that she was with, but more it was about them and the unshakable bond that had held them together since they were eleven years old. Hermione was his rock just as he was hers, and not even Draco Malfoy could change that.

Sighing, Hermione pulled away from her friend and smiled slightly at him. “I’d prefer to be able to tell Ron myself.”

Harry snorted and shook his head with a slight laugh. “I’m not even going to get involved in that conversation. But let me know when and I’ll bring snacks.”

“Thanks, Harry.” Hermione replied sarcastically but found that she meant it on a deeper level that she couldn’t rightfully put into words. Though when she met his eyes again, he seemed to understand exactly what she meant.

They settled into a silence as they moved past the mind-bending revelation that Hermione was sleeping with, the air between them once again turning awkward as they came back to what she had been doing down here anyways. 

“Well, I’d better…” Harry gestured with his toothbrush in the direction of the bathroom and Hermione laughed slightly.

“Right. Of course.” She said, a slight blush creeping up her neck as she stepped to the side of the hall to let him pass.

Just as he moved past her, Hermione reached out and stopped him with a hand on his arm. He looked over at her quizzically.

“Harry, I love you.” Hermione said firmly, the sudden urge to tell him had stopped her short. “No matter what happens tomorrow or any day in the future, you’re my best friend and I am so proud of you.”

She smiled slightly at him as his brows drew together at her words. She had never planned to ever say goodbye to her friends, regardless of the fact that they could all very well be dead within the next few days. They would go to Hogwarts the same way they had gone into everything else; unprepared and optimistic. But it had been in that moment that Hermione remembered that she never got the chance to say goodbye to her parents, not a real goodbye anyways, and she was not going to make that mistake again.

Harry pulled her to him again, pressing his lips against her temple as she wrapped her arms around his waist.

“We’ll be okay, yeah?” Harry asked with a slight smile as they pulled apart, his green eyes betraying his true feelings.

Even now as the end was in sight, he was still trying to protect everyone. Hermione nodded against the moisture that pricked her eyes, she had done enough crying over the past few days. She could be brave. Over the years it had felt like she was becoming less and less of a Gryffindor, more hesitant and careful than she used to be. But if Harry could stand in the dimly lit hallways telling her things are going to be okay, knowing quite well that he was going to have to face Voldemort tomorrow, then she could be brave for him.

***

Draco rose not long after Hermione had, waking to find the space next him where she had been the night before still slightly warm but empty. Rolling onto his back, he ran a hand through his messy hair hating that once again morning had come and the events of his life still weren’t just a bad dream. Staring up at the dark red canopy of the four-poster bed, he thought about what he had to do today.

After several minutes of silent planning, he sat up and slid off the bed into the cold air. It was hard to believe that they were only a few days past Christmas, a thought that reminded him that the gift he had gotten for Hermione was still sitting under the large tree in his study. Between the party and the revelation of her attack, he hadn’t exactly felt like celebrating. Though he regretted that now, wishing he could have seen her face when she opened his gift.

Knowing that the war would potentially come to an end tomorrow had somehow steeled his nerves even further. Any anxiety or trepidation up until this point was pushed aside with the knowledge of what he had to do. Pulling his occlumency shields up to dull his emotions, he went in search of his clothes.

Hearing the rustle of morning movement in the hall outside of his door, Draco dressed quickly, hoping to find Hermione before the rest of the order made it impossible for him to speak to her alone.

Several minutes later, he was making his way to the kitchen, having already knocked on Hermione’s bedroom door without answer. He had passed a couple of early risers on his way around the house, not missing the hate hidden behind some of their eyes as they met his. He smirked inwardly, knowingthat in less than two days he would no longer be their problem.

Hermione was seated at the kitchen table when he pushed open the door, her legs tucked up beneath her as she held a cup of coffee under her nose. She looked deep in thought as she stared across the table, so he closed the door a bit loudly behind him, causing her to jump and blink up at him. Her cheeks pinkened slightly as she saw who it was and he smirked at her, knowing exactly where her thoughts had been to produce such an enticing blush.

“Morning.” He said casually as he swept by her to get his own cup of coffee from the stove. Briefly he noted how quickly she was able to cut through his icy demeanor, wondering exactly when in the past few months she had found that ability.

“Morning.” Hermione replied, her eyes following his movements as he sat down in the chair next to her.

Taking a sip of the refreshingly bitter liquid, he let the moment of silence encase them, pretending for just a split second they were back at the manor enjoying the regular morning ritual they had developed. She was usually the first to rise, making a fresh pot of the brew and kept a stasis charm on it until he found his way to the kitchen. They usually wouldn’t talk, just sit in silence reading through the very corrupt news of the Daily Prophet. Just another thing he was going to miss.

Hermione looked up at him when Draco cleared his throat, his long fingers running over the smooth surface of the mug in his hands.

“I’ll need to head back to the Manor in a bit to get some things in order.”

“Things?” Hermione asked confused. She noticed that he wasn’t looking at her.

“Well there are quite a few incriminating items of yours lying around that I would prefer not be found if things head south.” Draco said with a pointed look to her. “Not to mention the incriminating things of mine that would be of interest if the Order is successful. Either way, the Manor needs a good going through.”

“The place is huge, how are you going to do it all yourself? I can go with to help out? At least to clear out my incriminating things. They won’t likely need me until later today anyways.”

“No.” Draco said a little too quickly, looking up from his coffee. “They’ll want you here to go through more of the details, being an important pawn in their plan and all.” Hermione narrowed her eyes at the bitter tone but he ignored it. “Kildy will help me. And I’ll send the stock of healing supplies we’ve collected over from the Manor so Zabini can be prepared for any casualties. Once everything is in order I’ll be back. Likely sometime tomorrow morning.”

Hermione’s brows shot up. “Tomorrow morning?”

“There’s a lot of stuff.” Draco said simply as an explanation, keeping his expression impassive.

“Right.” Hermione said, her eyes narrowing slightly as she leaned back in the chair. “When are you leaving?”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs had Draco turning his head slightly. The house was waking up and he would prefer not to be around when the mob descended. “Preferably before the brigade comes to breakfast.” He said with a smirk in Hermione’s direction.

“We’re going to need to be at the Manor tomorrow through.” Hermione began, trying to get this conversation in before they were interrupted and the room fell into chaos. “Once Voldemort sends us to Hogwarts to fight, I’m planning to apparate back to the caves with whatever patient I can find.”

“Patient?” Draco asked with a raise of his brow.

“Hopefully one past saving to avoid having to get rid of them myself. I’ll need an excuse to disappear during the fighting.” Hermione said more to herself and Draco quirked a brow which she simply ignored. Normally she wasn’t one to wish for the death of others, Voldemort being the only exclusion, but a few Death Eaters joining him would not cause her to lose sleep. Especially if Greyback were among them.

More noise sounded from down the hall and Draco sighed. “I’m going to head out. I’ll try to be back first thing but let me know if any plans change and I’m needed earlier.”

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, still feeling a bit uneasy about them splitting up but refrained from saying anything, nodding instead.

“Don’t touch my knickers.” She said offhandedly as Draco stood from him chair. She didn’t miss the slight quirk of his mouth and was surprised when he stooped down to press his lips against her forehead. It was uncharacteristic of him to be so open about displays of affection and Hermione furrowed her brows as he moved his lips to her ear.

“That’s not what you were saying last night.”

She gasped and whipped her head around towards him. Laughing slightly Draco quickly pulled away as she swung out with her hand, hitting his should as he stood.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes, turning back to the newspaper she had discarded before Draco had walked in.

“Yeah, tomorrow.” He said as he made his way to the door. A pang of longing had him turning at the last moment to look at her, memorizing the sight of her comfortably sitting at the table. Even though she had gotten used to being at the manor with him, there had never been a time when she hadn’t been on edge. He didn’t blame her, though he wished not for the first time that they could have had a chance.

There was nothing he would regret about the past few months, except that he wouldn’t have any more time with her. She was everything he would never deserve, and more.

Taking one final look at her, Draco silently said goodbye.

***

The day flew by for Hermione and the rest of the Order members who were bustling back and forth between the various safe houses. Draco had sent Kildy with the healing supplies as promised and Hermione spent time with Blaise at the Burrow making sure that they had access to anything they might need. They tried not to think about what was coming, the people they might lose, but that proved difficult as Hermione often found herself lost in thought.

She didn’t like being away from Draco with so little time left. If things ended they way she was expecting them to, she wanted to spend any time she had left with him and her family. Blaise had tried to make conversation with her while they were working but he gave up after finding her responses distracted.

It was almost night by the time Hermione said goodbye to everyone at the Burrow. Mr. Weasley had given her a knowing look as his wife cried on Hermione’s shoulder. The pair had been the closest thing she had had to parents since the passing of her own, and no matter how proud they were of her and her choices, both wished they could ship all of their children off to hiding to survive the war.

“Now you promise to check straight in, yes?” Mrs. Weasley asked as she finally pulled back from Hermione, eyes and nose red.

The younger witch nodded and tried to smile. “Of course. And as soon as my job is done, I’m coming back here to help Blaise.”

She hugged the both of them again before returning to Grimmauld Place, seeking out the committee that was currently going over the final plans. It felt so strange actually having a plan. Almost everything she, Harry and Ron had ever done in their time at Hogwarts had been achieved by spontaneity. Maybe that had been their downfall.

It was crowded in what she had dubbed the situation room, pulling from the shows her dad used to watch depicting American politics. Kingsley and Lupin lead the helm of the room, assigning jobs and positions to the different units that were amassing across the country. This was no longer an issue that only affected the wizarding community of Great Britain; Voldemort’s influence was everywhere.

She slid along the outside wall, knowing her role already. Ron nodded at her as she slid up next to him in, listening along as Kingsley gave a quick lesson on basic counter curses to the many spells they would likely be facing.

“Imagine how unnecessary this would be if we had actually had a competent Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.” Ron whispered to her.

“Lupin was competent.” Hermione replied with a smile, raising her eyes at a wizard who shot them a dirty look for speaking.

“Yes, though I don’t suppose we’ll be facing any boggarts tomorrow.”

“Well at least spiders will be the worst of your worries.” Hermione said sarcastically, earning a small smile from Ron.

“Actually I’ve been okay with spiders recently.” Ron said without looking at her.

“Really?” Hermione asked. Maybe they did have a chance of winning, obviously stranger things had happened.

Ron looked over at her with a slight upward quirk of his lips. “Always the tone of surprise.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay as a quick warning/preview for what's to come... it's gonna get dark guys. I'll put warnings at the beginnings of the affected chapters and indicate within the chapter when things are happening so there isn't a surprise but for anyone.


	36. Chapter 36

Since the moment she opened her eyes the next morning, Hermione felt off. It had been a late night finalizing plans for their attack on Hogwarts the next day, and the clock across from her bed currently showed that she had slept much later than intended.

The feeling wasn’t anxiety, though that would be expected given that all of them might be dead in less than twenty-four hours. The feeling was more of a general one of being unsettled, like something had gone horribly wrong but she couldn’t remember what.

As she showered, Hermione tried to shake the feeling, though it hovered like a black cloud. Surprisingly, she found that choosing an outfit to fight the greatest evil on the world was more difficult than she would have initially imagine, though in the end comfort won out. Finally she settled on an outfit she had worn a million times before; a pair of dark blue skinny jeans and a grey t-shirt with a fitted dark green jacket, making sure that nothing that would restrict her movements. A year into the war Ginny had gifted her with a pair of moisture repellant low boots that kept the blood of her patients off her feet, a likely asset for tonight, Hermione thought grimly as she pulled them on.

Draco hadn’t given a specific time that he would return in the morning, so when she didn’t find him downstairs when she went for breakfast, she hadn’t been concerned. Though as the day went on, Hermione found herself constantly seeking out the various clocks around the house. Then after two hours of waiting, the feeling that had started this morning had increased ten-fold and it was no longer something she could ignore.

It was almost an itch under her skin now, annoyingly constant and unsettling. It had distracted her from her work helping organize all of the different people who shuffled through the house from all over. They had better win this war because if they didn’t, Grimmauld Place would no longer be a safe house with the amount of people that knew it’s location.

“Harry,” she said halfway through the day, sitting down in the chair next to his in the kitchen. He was flipping through the Marauder’s Map, trying to map out a patter of the movements of the Death Eaters who resided in the castle.

He didn’t look up from his work. “Yeah?”

“You haven’t seen Draco, have you?”

At this Harry did look up, hearing the concern in his friend’s voice. She was once again looking up at the clock in the room, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. He had seen Hermione in all sorts of situations, both perilous and not, and the only other time he had seen her looking as anxious and worried as she did now was the week prior to taking the O.W.L. exams after not sleeping for a week in order to study.

“Not since yesterday, no. I thought he went back to get his things in order. Why? What is it?” His full attention was on her now, the moving footprints on the map forgotten entirely.

“I don’t know.” Hermione admitted, fiddling with one of the silver buttons on the sleeve of her jacket. “I just feel…” she blinked, struggling to put words to the ominous sensation that had been following her all morning.

“Hermione if you’re worried about him, why not just pop over to the Manor quick?” Harry suggested, brows furrowed in concern for his friend. Her concern for Malfoy would have been surprising if it hadn’t been for the discovery he had made the other morning. He understood her worry, feeing the same way about Ginny on numerous occasions.

The thought to check on Draco had occurred to her several times in the morning, but each time she had convinced herself that she just needed to trust him. But she remembered his demeanor as he said goodbye to her yesterday, and it was suddenly like something clicked into place.

“Oh my god.” She said softly, feeling a frantic bubble pop inside.

“What?” Harry said with confusion. He startled as she shot up from her seat and rushed from the room. He quickly followed her into the living room, unnerved by her sudden behavior.

Hermione’s heart was pounding as she snatched a handful of floo powder and stepped into the grate. Malfoy wouldn’t dare, she thought as she met Harry’s panicked eyes as he stood just a few feet away from her.

“Malfoy Manor!” She yelled out and threw the powder down at her feet.

For a moment she felt the warm rush of heat that usually accompanied floo transport and in that moment, it was accompanied by relief. But then her heart dropped as she realized that the flames surrounding her legs were not their usual color of green. Instead a bright red surrounded her for another few seconds before extinguishing completely.

If possible, Harry’s confusion increased further.

“What was that?” He asked as Hermione stepped out of the fireplace, her eyes still frantic but now with flares of temper.

“He’s blocked me out.” She said incredulously, waves of anger and concern simultaneously crashing over her. “The bloody git is going after the snake himself.”

“Malfoy?” Harry asked, trying to catch up.

“Yes, Malfoy!” Hermione cried as she rounded on him. “This was always his plan. He was against me going after the snake from the beginning and now he’s made it physically impossible for me to do so. I’m going to kill him.”

Knowing how dangerous Hermione’s temper could be, Harry immediately felt a twinge of sympathy for Malfoy. Though she probably wouldn’t kill him, but maiming and torturing were not entirely out of the question.

“Why would he go after the snake himself? We all decided it would be best if you did it.”

“Because he’s an ass, that’s why.” Hermione said as she started to pace.

Harry’s expression softened a bit, both in sympathy for Hermione and brewing appreciation and admiration for Malfoy. “Or because he wants to protect you.” He said simply. “Because he cares about you.”

Hermione stopped her pacing and turned to face him. “It’s not like that for him.”

Harry snorted and Hermione raised her brows in response. “Please Hermione. I may not know the bloke, but I see the way he looks at you. There’s more there than you think.”

At those words Hermione’s heart skipped a beat. She and Draco had never discussed their feelings for each other, and while she knew that she was in love with him, it felt like too much to expect the same feelings in return. She had zero expectations from Malfoy, but hearing Harry’s observations gave her a slight glimmer of hope.

For a moment Harry thought that he had said the wrong thing as moisture collected in Hermione’s eyes for a brief moment before she dashed it away with her hands.

“No. I don’t care about that right now. This wasn’t his task, it was mine.” She said harshly, returning to her pacing.

Her actions were attracting they curious eyes of the various Order members that shuffled in and out of the room. A few of them stopped to ask if there was anything they could do, but were brushed aside by Hermione.

“Can’t you just apparate over there and see if he’s there?” Harry asked, searching for a solution.

“No, I can’t!” Hermione cried angrily. “There are anti-apparition shields all around the Manor. It only works if you’re going back and forth to the caves. The Manor was my only way to get to the snake.”

Just then Ron walk into the living room, having been alerted just minutes earlier by someone who had witnessed the tense situation happening downstairs between Harry and Hermione. He had been working with George on stocking up last-minute defensive products that would be distributed to the fighters such as Peruvian darkness powder and portable swamps. Anything that would give them an advantage over the Death Eaters.

Ron stopped short seeing Hermione’s agitation and, from previous experience, approached slowly.

“What’s going on?” He asked, coming up alongside Harry whose brows were furrowed in thought.

Harry quickly explained the situation and Ron was surprised to hear that Malfoy had taken the task upon himself instead of leaving it to Hermione. A part of him expected it was just a glory seeking act, though the Malfoy he had observed over the past few months didn’t seem like that person anymore.

After a minute of watching Hermione pace, Ron spoke, fully aware that what he was about to say would potentially get him hexed.

“Maybe this is a good thing?” Ron said measuredly and almost winced as Hermione snapped her eyes over to glare at him.

“A good thing? And how’s that Ronald?” She asked, an obvious edge to her voice.

“Well if Malfoy’s plan is to take out the snake, why should we fight it? Especially if it frees you up to work with us.” Ron glanced back and forth between Harry and Hermione, clearly not seeing a flaw in his logic.

“Ron if I’m not there with him by the time he is called by Voldemort, they’ll know something is up and will likely kill him. He wouldn’t even have the chance to get to the snake, let alone Hogwarts.” Hermione said, concern for Draco only growing.

“Why would it matter if you show up with him?” Ron asked. “You just work together, it’s not like you’re expected to go everywhere with the bloke. Why can’t he just say that he has no idea where you are? Then you’re off the hook.”

Hermione bit her lip. Divulging her, or Olivia’s actually, marital status to Draco Malfoy was not something she had planned on doing, ever.

“They’ll just be expecting me to show up with him.”

“Why?” Harry asked, clearly as confused and curious as Ron. Both of them watching her with furrowed brows.

For a moment Hermione considered telling them the truth, but there just wasn’t time to get into that. The desire to get into the Manor won over the trepidation she had lying to her friends.

“I’ve shown up with Draco for the past six months, they’ll suspect something if I’m not there this time.” She lied instead. If they survived this, she might consider telling them everything. 

“I just need a way to get into the Manor before he tries anything.” She continued, looking at her friends.

They stood in silence as each of them contemplated any way to get past Draco’s barrier. The man was a talented wizard, almost at Hermione’s level, and if he wanted to keep someone out of his house, there wouldn’t be much stopping him. Hermione was growing more and more frustrated as she thought of what he had done. He had played her; pretending that he was going to follow the Order’s plan without question even though he wholeheartedly disagreed with it.

She should have known he’d pull something like this. But she had trusted him.

“Hermione if Malfoy wants to keep you out, I don’t see any way past it. The Manor is one of the oldest houses in Britain, the defenses are impenetrable to anyone not part of the family.” Harry said finally, wishing he had something better to say.

“Well that’s not entirely true.” Ron said out of the blue, running a hand over his short red hair. When both Hermione and Harry looked over at him, he shrugged. “I mean remember when we got captured and brought there.” It was a touchy subject that none of the three of them ever brought up and Ron’s eyes flicked to Hermione in hesitation, but she gestured for him to continue. “Dobby got in even though it was warded to everyone else. Voldemort was staying there at the time; there’s no way the defenses are any better now.”

“But Dobby isn’t here.” Harry said stoically at the same moment that Hermione’s eyes widened.

“Kildy.” She breathed out. The slight glimmer of hope finally reappearing.

“What’s that?” Ron asked.

“Draco’s house elf.” Hermione said quickly as she pulled her wand from her pocket.

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, putting a hand up to stop her as he stepped forward.

“Grimmauld Place is protected by the Fidelius charm. It was the reason why Kildy couldn’t just apparate me here the first time I was at the Manor. I’m not able to call her to me here.” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

“Where then?” Ron asked, his own concern at her sudden action rising.

“My flat.” Hermione replied. “I can call for her there and then she can get me into the Manor.”

The determined look in her eyes had Harry and Ron glancing at each other. This only served to annoy Hermione and she knew they didn’t understand the urgency she felt. It was only midafternoon, the battle wouldn’t start until evening when Lupin decided they would be at the Death Eaters at Hogwarts would be at their most vulnerable. But the feeling that had been nagging her all day pushed her to act faster.

“What?” She asked sharply.

The two wizards looked at the other again before Harry sighed and turned his eyes on her. “Nothing. Just be careful.”

There wasn’t any point in arguing with her, though both of the men wanted nothing more than for her to remain there with them. The months without Hermione around had been more difficult than either of them cared to admit. If she left now, it would be the last time they saw her before the battle. This would be goodbye.

Hermione seemed to understand immediately; her lips parted and the grip on her wand loosened. Looking between the two wizards who had been her best friends for twelve years, Hermione suddenly reached out and pulled the both of them to her. Harry and Ron responded alike and soon the three of them were wrapped in each other’s arms. They didn’t say anything, at least not out loud.

This was never how it was supposed to be. They should have been pursuing their careers by now. Harry and Ron would have joined the Aurors, doing their part to hunt down dark wizards like they had been doing since they were eleven. Ginny could be playing quidditch like she had always talked about and Hermione… well she could have pursued whatever dream she wanted. Healing was a profession chosen for the necessity of the craft during the war. And while she had come to love her work, she very much doubted she would have chosen it without the war.

Reluctantly, Hermione was the first to pull away, lowering back on her toes as she kept her hands on each of her friend’s shoulders. For what felt like the hundredth time today, her eyes filled with tears. Harry tried to smile at her, but his lips quavered, while Ron just looked at her grimly.

“I love you both, you know?” Hermione said as she blinked at the film that blurred her vision.

The two wizards just nodded. “We’ll go straight to the Burrow once everything is done and meet you there.” Ron said, mentioning the spot that Hermione theoretically planned to go after dealing with the snake. Immediate guilt rose up as she thought about their reaction when she didn’t show up.

“Okay.” She said with a nod.

Having already said what she needed to say to Harry this morning, she simply shot him a smile and told him good luck before turning to Ron.

“Don’t do anything stupid.” She said affectionately as she rose on her toes to kiss his cheek.

He flushed but rolled his eyes humorously. “Can’t promise anything.”

Smiling, Hermione and Harry both laughed as Hermione stepped back from them. After sharing one final look, she turned and stepped back into the fireplace, shouting out the address to her flat and watched as Harry, Ron and the rest of Grimmauld Place disappeared in green flames.

***

“Kildy!” Hermione cried out into the emptiness of her apartment as soon as she stepped out of the fireplace.

It was odd being back here; the place no longer held the comfort that she used to feel here. She no longer craved the escape that having her own place allowed and though she loved the apartment, there were things that were more important to her now.

She waited less then patiently for a few seconds and then jumped in surprise at the loud ‘crack’ that sounded off the tall ceilings. The small elf stood before her in her living room on the patterned rug. Kildy’s large eyes looking around the simple space before settling on Hermione and stepping forward.

“Miss Hermione.” Kildy said. While Hermione technically wasn’t her mistress and house elf rules would prohibit her form answering her call, Draco had instructed Kildy to answer to Hermione as she would to him when Hermione had first moved into the Manor. She wasn’t about to disappoint her master now.

“Kildy I need you to take me to the Manor.” Hermione said bluntly.

There was a moment of hesitation on the elf’s part and Hermione schooled her features, taking a page from Draco’s book.

“Did Draco tell you not to let me in?”

Hesitantly, Kidly nodded, her large ears flapped on either side of her head as her hands rung the little apron she wore. “Master Malfoy threatened great bodily harm to Kildy if she were to help Miss get into the house.”

Hermione sighed in frustration. Of course he had. Though she knew that he would never hurt the elf, it still irked her that Draco had threatened Kildy.

“If I don’t get to the Manor, then Draco is going to die. I need to get there now Kildy, you don’t want him to die do you?” She knew it was wrong for her to put Kildy on the spot like this, but she knew enough about house elves to know what would get to them. 

The elf’s hesitation seemed to waver for a moment as she eyed Hermione warily. The two had had nothing but a harmonious relationship over the past six months that Hermione had lived at the Manor. Kildy found it hard to believe that the witch would start lying to her now.

Finally, the small elf nodded and Hermione let out a sigh of relief. Stepping forward she took Kildy’s outstretched hand and braced for the quick tug of apparation.

The landing was much quieter in the Manor that it had been in her apartment; Kildy being conditioned to not make much noise in the Manor during her time serving Lucius. Hermione found herself standing in Draco’s study. Thinking that he was likely in the library continuing their research since they still hadn’t found a foolproof way to destroy the snake, Hermione thanked Kildy before moving from the room.

Once in the hallway, Hermione started towards the library but a sound near the stairs made her pause. It was in the opposite direction that the library door was and when she froze to listen closer, the noise was that of voices. A new sense of awareness overtook Hermione as she pulled her wand from her pocket. The sound from the ballroom was definitely voices, and there were definitely more than one.

Now on guard, Hermione moved quietly down the empty hallway to stand outside of the double doors of the ballroom. Only one of the doors was open and Hermione pressed herself against the closed one, trying to make out the voices in the large room. They were angry sounding, one of them she recognized as Bellatrix while the others were indistinguishable.

Risking a peek, Hermione moved slightly to try and peer around the edge of the large wood doors to see what was happening. In hindsight, she should have left the moment she heard the voices. But instead she found herself looking into the room that was a far cry from the festive, cheerfully decorated ballroom from a few days ago.

Holding her breath and gripping her wand tightly, Hermione shifted to get a better view.

There were several people standing near the large fireplace at the end of the room, though it was not lit. She could see Voldemort silently pacing at the hearth while Bellatrix, Rudolphus and four other Death Eaters stood nearby. With a breath of relief, Hermione saw the bright blond head of Draco standing near his aunt with his back to the door. He hadn’t gone after the snake yet then.

It was hard to make out what the conversation was about, as everyone seemed to be speaking in relatively hushed tones with occasional harsh louder words. Hermione watched for another moment before realizing that she was not at all in the best position. The rings were sitting on Draco’s nightstand in his room, having been discarded there Christmas Eve. She needed to get them in order to safely make her appearance known.

Just as she was pulling back from the door to make her way to the stairs, Hermione paused as she felt a presence just behind her. With a gasp she spun, wand raised high, and looked straight into the yellow eyes that had haunted her dreams.

Greyback stood only two feet from her and as soon as she started to move her wand, he reached out sharply and grabbed her wrist tight in his large hands as he pulled her forward, making her cry out in sharp pain. With a sharp twist of her wrist, he had her wand dropping to the floor at their feet.

Hermione’s heart raced as she tried to hit out with her other hand, which only opened up an opportunity for Greyback to grab her other wrist. Despite her struggles, he was much larger than her, and stronger. She tried to dig her heels into the marble floor but Grey back easily pulled her so that she was inches from him.

The werewolf still held bruises about his nose from where her head had collided with it just days earlier. Voldemort had obviously made Greyback wear his injuries as a punishment instead of allowing for any sort of healing. A small part of Hermione felt proud of her work.

Hermione tried to lean away from him as the man sneered down at her panicked form. “Well what do we have here?” He asked as his eyes roamed over her face, hand tightening further around her wrist. “Lost little mudblood?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry :D 
> 
> I'm already working on the next chapter and hope it'll be up in the next few days! Stay with me everyone!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we goooooo!

Hermione could count on one hand the amount of times she had truly felt stupid in her life. There was a time in primary school prior to Hogwarts that she had gotten into an argument with a boy in her class over the proper color of a mermaid’s tail, conceding finally that bright pink was not the best camouflage in a dangerous underwater world. Then there was the time she argued with Fred and George about their products fifth years and ended up conceding that what they had accomplished was nothing short of brilliant magic.

Stupid was not a word that was commonly, if ever, used to describe her. She was the brightest witch of her age and had thus far lived up to the reputation. She was a skilled healer and had learned under the greats before St. Mungos was dismantled. She knew countless hexes and curses and was a nightmare to come up against in a duel, both Lupin and Kingsley had bemoaned her career choice after crushing their hopes of her becoming an auror.

So Hermione Granger was not stupid.

But she felt like it now.

As soon as Greyback had caught her, a million regrets raced through her mind. She should have been smarter and more cautious coming here. The possibility of being caught hadn’t even occurred to her; which had come as a result of spending months in secure isolation in the Manor. Though they had been surprised by guests once before during Voldemort’s unexpected visit, and she felt stupid for not even thinking about the possibility now. Her thoughts were only on finding Draco.

And as angry as she had been with him, she should have trusted him more. She wasn’t his keeper and shouldn’t have fought him in his desire to take care of the snake himself. It hadn’t been pride and a need to prove himself that had driven his need to act, instead resulting as a pure desire to protect her. She should have respected his actions and adapted to whatever role the order needed her to play.

Instead she had run after him like a jilted lover, left behind in the rain after an argument. She had been angry that he hadn’t consulted her, yet knew exactly what her reaction would have been if he would have. She would have locked him in the basement before letting him come here without her. Maybe she should have locked herself in the basement.

Hermione couldn’t scream, though the pure, hot fear pulsing through her veins with every beat of her racing heart told her to do so. There was still a chance that she could get away from him, she thought wildly. If he selfishly exploited his good luck like he had in the caves, she could potentially disarm him again and get free.

Luck was not on her side though.

With a sharp movement, Greyback spun her around, one large hand holding her petite wrists behind her as he pulled her back sharply against his chest. “I’ve been waiting a long time for you, poppet.” He said with a gravely snarl in her ear. The harshness of his voice sent shivers of fear down Hermione’s back and she jerked her head away from his mouth.

Mind racing she looked frantically around the hallway, catching sight of Kildy’s large round eyes watching her with terror from around the library door. Hermione thought immediately of Dobby and shook her head minutely, not wanting the elf to interfere and get hurt. For one of the first times in the entire war, she didn’t know how she was going to get out of this.

Pushing her hard, Greyback moved her forward through the open door into the ballroom. Hermione stumbled over her feet as he manhandled her, the crushing grip on her wrists bruising her skin. In vain she tried to dig her heels into the marble floor to stop their momentum, but it only served to make the soles of her boots squeak against the tile.

Greyback was grunting and swearing at her as she struggled against his hold, both of them fighting to gain some form of control. The ruckus they created broke the pristine, orderly quiet in the room and startled the Death Eaters who turned towards them with surprise. The shock was obvious on their faces as they took in the scene of Greyback pushing Hermione more into the room, grinning like a dog who had just caught a rabbit.

Heart pounded in her chest; Hermione stumbled over her feet on the pure marble floor that only a few days ago she had danced with Draco on. She should have just stayed with Harry and Ron. This was the end for her, the end for them all. And it was all her fault.

The Death Eaters watched her with wide eyes, seemingly shocked into silence at her sudden appearance. Bellatrix on the other hand reacted quite immediately. As soon as she had seen it was Hermione that Greyback held captive, a wide sneer slid across her face and she all but clapped her hands in anticipation. The excitement radiating off the witch was evident and she was only held back from approaching the two by Voldemort’s hand raised in her direction.

Finally, and only for a moment, Hermione met Draco’s eyes, and while his external expression was just as hard and impassive as it usually was, she could see the glimmer of panic behind the facade. She hated herself in this instance. She could handle the consequences of putting herself in this situation, but she had known from the moment she had agreed to go undercover, that if she was caught then Draco’s life would be on the line as well.

She wanted to scream at him, tell him to run and get as far away from here as he could. In the instant of shock that her appearance had created, he could have gotten out. He was a fighter and would be an asset to the order during the final battle. He just needed to get out.

Even as she thought it, her eyes pleaded with him to act but he stood frozen like a stone statue. When she and Greyback finally reached the group, his large hand gripped her curls and wrenched her head back, making her cry out in pain. Draco clenched his jaw at the sound but made no other move to help her.

“My Lord,” Greyback snarled just above Hermione’s ear and she could hear the undertones of excitement in his words. “A gift for you.”

With how he spoke, Hermione wondered if he was groveling a bit. There hadn’t been any reports that had reached them about Olivia’s run-in with the werewolf during the party, though Hermione couldn’t help but wondered if the man had been privately punished by his master.

With a snarl, he sharply pushed her head forward so Hermione was forced to look ahead, meeting Voldemort’s red eyes defiantly.

The snake-man looked back at her without emotion. There was no reading his expression and Hermione could feel the blood pounding in her ears as she held the last shred of bravery close. If there had been even the whisper of a chance to escape, then she would have been more scared, more concerned for her life. And though she was scared, the growing acceptance that this was likely it for her had numbed her emotions.

She didn’t look at Draco again, knowing that any untoward attention she gave him would draw suspicion in his direction. He needed to be as invisible as possible right now.

Finally, after what felt like a lifetime of waiting, Voldemort finally stepped towards the pair, Bellatrix close on his heels. The red eyes swept over Hermione’s face as if trying to place her. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize her, Hermione thought fleetingly, but her wish was quickly squashed as Bellatrix opened her mouth.

“It’s the mudblood, my Lord.” She hissed with glee from behind Voldemort, looking at Hermione with wild eyes. “Potter’s mudblood.”

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed at the sound of his nemeses’ name, though they never left Hermione’s face.

“Yes,” he said finally, his voice a hiss as it left his nonexistent lips. “I can see that Bella. Though I find myself curious how she came to be here.”

Greyback broke in at this, obviously not wanting to lose the credit of her capture. “Found her outside the door, my Lord. Eavesdropping.”

“Already in the Manor?” Voldemort said with barely a hint of surprise and Greyback nodded in response.

Knowing where the line of questioning would be going and who the questions would turn to next, Hermione’s eyes widened slightly, and she made a split-second decision. If she couldn’t save herself, then maybe she could at least give Draco the time he needed.

With all the strength she had, Hermione raised her knee and stomped back onto Greyback’s foot, relishing his howl of pain as the hard heel of her boot came down on his toes. The move almost felt juvenile in its simplicity, but it had its effect and for a moment, Greyback’s hands loosened on her. Just as Hermione pulled away and spun to hit her captor again, she was hit with the most intense pain she had ever felt and she screamed out.

Intent truly was the key to executing an unforgivable curse, and Bellatrix was anything but lacking in intent. The black-haired, wild-eyed witch cackled with glee as she held the _Crucio_ over Hermione, dropping the other witch to the floor like a stone just before she could hit Greyback.

Hermione screamed as the pain ripped her body apart, broke her bones and tore the flesh from her. There were no thoughts, no sights or sounds; only pain. Bellatrix had been waiting for the opportunity to finish what she had started those years ago on this very floor and it showed in the pure pain that Hermione was experiencing, pain that would have had her begging for death if she could only stop screaming.

Then just as quickly as it had started, it stopped.

The first thing she noticed besides the residual burning, was that her throat felt raw and her body twitched as she curled in on herself. All of her nerved felt raw and exposed, sensitive to even the smallest movement of air. She panted, though she had done nothing to exert herself.

Through the pounding in her ears, Hermione vaguely heard Voldemort tut at Bellatrix and reprimand her for her actions. Though his words were against her, the tone was nothing but praise. Not without effort, Hermione opened her eyes and blinked at the tears that had formed unwillingly. She didn’t dare move, couldn’t really, and simply stared down at the pristine marble tile, now wet with tears that had slipped off her lashes.

“Stand her up.” She heard and barely had a moment to brace herself against the resulting pain before she was yanked off the floor to her feet.

From the smell of the person holding her, she was held by Greyback once again and Hermione felt nauseous as her fragile nerves sang with new pain. She knew just how powerful Bellatrix’s curse had been given that she barely felt strong enough to hold herself up, unwillingly slumping back on Greyback’s firm form. One of his arms held her up around her waist, effectively anchoring her arms to her side while his other rough hand slid up around her throat, squeezing as he spoke directly into her ear.

“One move and I will snap your pretty little neck like a bird.” His hand tightened as if to illustrate his threat.

Hermione closed her eyes at his words but then opened them to scan the small group in front of her. With a flash of dismay, she found that Draco was still among them, watching her with the same impassive expression. He wasn’t going to leave her and Hermione both loved and hated him for it.

Seeing that she was once again properly contained, Voldemort once again stepped forward and watched Hermione as her eyes slid back to his.

“How did you get into the Manor?” He asked bluntly.

His questions showed just how insecure he had become with the attacks against him. Over her several visits to the caves Hermione had seen him murder people for simply existing in his presence, never had he taken the time to actually interrogate his victims. But now he needed to know where his weaknesses were as Hermione had obviously exploited one of them.

Still she refused to respond to his questions, knowing that any answer she gave would put Draco in immediate risk.

During one of the nights she and Draco had spent in his bed, nestled under the blankets in the shelter of darkness, Draco had confessed to her that he still heard her screams from the night Bellatrix had tortured her in his dreams. He had hated himself for years for standing by while his aunt cut into his former classmate and the guilt he had carried with him over the years was something he had pushed deep down behind the walls that had been constructed in his mind. But it still ate at him, and Hermione knew that he wouldn’t stay quiet this time.

As if sensing the subject of her thoughts, Voldemort’s eyes narrowed slightly and without turning his head, he spoke out.

“Draco.”

The single word was the most menacing and defeating thing Hermione had ever heard, and it made her heart skip a beat as she blinked against the fear that welled up inside her.

Robes rustled as some of the Death Eaters moved out of the way, not wanting to even be in Draco’s proximity now that Voldemort’s attention had shifted to him. Grey eyes met Hermione’s for a single second and she saw them turn to steel before he stepped forward, his entire demeanor hard, as if nothing in the world could bother him.

“My Lord.” He said with the easy confidence that had served him well throughout the years of being a Death Eater. It was something that his father had done well up until the point of losing favor within Voldemort’s ranks. But Draco had learned from his father’s mistakes.

He didn’t even bother looking at Hermione until Voldemort asked how she could have come to be in the Manor. Obviously blame must be placed somewhere, and as they were in Draco’s home, it was only natural it fell to him.

At the question, Draco finally turned his cold, grey eyes to Hermione and looked her over with cold disgust. His face barely showed any expression as he scanned her body, a slight sneer creeping across his lips.

“It certainly wasn’t invited, my Lord.” He said, keeping his expression professionally blank.

The lack of any warmth or emotion to his tone made Hermione’s heart ache. It was reminiscent of when she had first started working with him when he had been ice towards her, barely acknowledging her presence in his own home. They had come so far together, and she had worked to drawn him out of the metal shell that he had locked himself away in, slowly pulling more and more of the true Draco forward. To see and hear him this way was like looking at a stranger, and Hermione once again felt alone.

It was in this moment that she started to doubt him, and herself. Harry’s words about Draco caring for her echoed in her mind and while it had been comforting to her then, it all felt like lies now. She loved him, but maybe this was all part of the game for him. Maybe the entirety of their interactions had been nothing but a way to get her to trust him so that he could get rid of another mudblood that tainted his precious wizarding world.

Even as the poisonous thoughts slipped across her mind, she thought about how he had held her in his arms not twenty-four hours ago, how sweetly he had kissed her, and how softly he had caressed her skin, like she was made of glass and he was scared of breaking her. But that man was hidden behind whatever walls he had built to protect himself, which while painful to see, Hermione knew were completely necessary. 

“Then how did she get in?” Voldemort’s voice cut through her thoughts, bringing her back to the present.

Draco tilted his head as he looked Hermione over again. “I have no idea my Lord. Though she has a reputation of being somewhat intelligent; they must have found a way past the defenses.”

It was a good try on his part to brush off any guilt that had automatically fallen on him, though not good enough. Voldemort continued to watch Draco with narrowed eyes, like a snake waiting for the attack.

“And yet she is here on her own.” He said quietly. “Seems strange does it not?”

Draco shrugged and looked bored. “I said she had a reputation for intelligence, I didn’t say she was intelligent.”

Hermione glared at him, not even having to try to be insulted at his words. He was acting like the Draco that she had grown to hate over her years at Hogwarts and beyond. When threatened he reverted to being a bully, though the reputation and demeanor he held now in his older age made him a much more dangerous bully than he had ever been before. 

Voldemort on the other hand, was not buying the explanations being woven before him. It he hadn’t already been paranoid, the recent attacks by the order seemed to have pushed him over the edge. He didn’t trust anyone at the moment, even his most loyal of followers. The stakes were too high and with the personal nature of the attacks, Voldemort had met his breaking point.

Without another word, the snake-like man stepped closer to Draco so that they were face to face, barely inches separating them. Impressively, Draco held his composure despite the closeness and the red glare that swept over his face. There wasn’t even a note of tension to the blonde wizard’s face as the Dark Lord surveyed him which only seemed to anger Voldemort further.

Hermione watched the interaction with building anxiety. She had seen before when Draco’s loyalty to Voldemort had come into question, and both times he had been punished for it. There was no way that he would escape unharmed in retribution of her recklessness of showing up here.

All at once she became aware of the rest of the people in the room. Each of them watching, as she had been, the growing tension between Draco and Voldemort. Hermione knew they were all wondering how Draco was still alive, and the apprehension on some of their faces was evident. Bellatrix on the other hand was acting like she was at the movies and the exciting part had just started. Her eyes were wide with anticipation and the corners of her open mouth were turned upwards.

After moments of intense scrutiny, Voldemort’s face broke into a sneer.

“Well then. If it’s true that you know not how she came to be here and had no part in it—”

“I did not.” Draco interjected firmly, holding his ground.

“Then as master of this house, it is your responsibility to dispose of the problem.” Voldemort finished; his red eyes boring straight into Draco’s.

Hermione felt her heart drop and couldn’t help the small noise that sounded in her throat as she took a sharp breath. In a way she should be relieved that Voldemort hadn’t killed both of them outright, but a part of her knew that this was almost worse. He was testing Draco, and Hermione had found that tests from the Dark Lord were almost impossible to pass. Either way, she would not be leaving this room alive and it was only a question of if she would meet her end at Draco’s hands, or Voldemort’s.

Greyback felt her stiffen and grinned over her shoulder, putting his mouth next to her ear as he nuzzled his nose into her neck as he snarled in her ear. “Scared, lovely?”

Hermione didn’t react to the words or the moist breath that swept over her skin, instead keeping her eyes on Draco’s face which was still expertly expressionless. There was no hint of what he was going to do as he inclined his head in acknowledgment of Voldemort’s direction.

“Of course, my Lord.” He said, the ice in his voice not wavering in the slightest.

Pulling his wand from the hidden pocket in his robes, Draco turned to Hermione and met her eyes. There was nothing discernable as emotion in the grey depths, contrasting with everything Hermione felt echoed in her warm brown ones. The other Death Eaters watched with silent anticipation as Draco took another step forward towards where Greyback held Hermione.

Voldemort watched Draco’s movement carefully while Bellatrix stood just beside him with a maniacal grin on her face.

Coming to a stop several feet from where they stood, Draco rolled his wand between his fingers and his eyes narrowed briefly at Greyback over Hermione’s shoulder.

“Unless you’d like to suffer along with her, I’d suggest you move.” He said coldly though it was quite obvious that Draco would happily rid the world of him too; his hatred for the werewolf was no secret in the Dark Lord’s ranks.

The hand around Hermione’s throat tightened briefly, as Greyback immediately objected to giving up his prey. Hermione knew that he wanted both credit for her capture and the spoils of her punishment. The first time the trio had been captured and brought to the manor the werewolf had described in detail just what he would like to do to her. And surprisingly to Hermione, she almost would have rather suffered that than force Draco to do what he had to.

Finally Greyback seceded and the hand around Hermione’s throat fell away, cool air washing over her bruised skin. A magicked rope suddenly wrapped around her wrists, ensuring that her arms remained behind her. Hermione winced at the tightness of the rope and fear washed over her as Greyback forced her to her knees before stepping away out of the line of fire.

As the werewolf moved, Hermione was left alone on her knees in front of the group. She swallowed against the panic that clutched at her throat and heart as Draco took a final step towards her. His face was still impassive though Hermione could see a slight sheen of sweat forming on his temples despite the coolness of the room.

The air seemed to move in slow motion around them as brown eyes met grey. Everything Hermione wanted to say to him rushed up inside her, but she tampered it down, knowing that these feelings would die with her. It was better that Draco never knew exactly how she felt about him; hopefully it would lessen the guilt of killing her later in his life.

The tension between everyone standing around them was like electricity that crackled in the otherwise silent room. The rest of the Death Eaters seemed to be holding their breath as they watched the scene unfold before them, none of them speaking or even daring to make a noise.

Hermione refused to let the fear show on her face and took a deep breath to steady her thoughts and emotions. She was a Gryffindor even if she hadn’t felt like it lately, she would face her final moments with bravery.

***

Draco’s occlumency over the past several hours had been so strong that he had barely registered anything except Voldemort’s orders. It was as if his emotions were a lake, frozen behind the dams he had meticulously constructed in his mind. There wasn’t any room for error as Voldemort periodically pushed himself into his follower’s minds, trying to search for any hint of treason. The man was as paranoid as Draco had ever seen him; mistrust causing him to spontaneously interrogate any Death Eater that dared look at him openly.

He had barely felt surprise or concern when Greyback had initially drug Hermione into the ballroom, though behind the concrete structures, his psyche was screaming for her to run, beating against the walls that held everything back. As he watched Hermione scream and wither on the floor in front of him as his aunt once again tortured her, his fear for her started to spill over and trickle down the dam walls. When Voldemort gave his order to dispose of her, the façade cracked even more as all the dampened hatred for his master started to flood forward.

Then finally when he finally faced Hermione and looked at her over the tip of his raised wand with her kneeling before him on the pristine marble of his family home, and saw the shift in her face from an expression of fear, to one of acceptance and bravery, the dam broke entirely.

Draco let out a stuttered breath as all his emotions rushed forward, the tight hold he had held for years snapped like a rubber band. The arm holding his wand up to point at her wavered slightly and Hermione’s eyes widened as she shook her head slightly at him. He knew that she saw what his next moves would be and knew that she was cursing him internally.

But he couldn’t kill her. No, he refused to kill her. And if this was the way that he was going to die, then at least he would die feeling every bit like himself. And at least he would die with her.

“No.” She breathed out in a whisper, and the corner of Draco’s lips twitched upward as he held her eyes.

The atmosphere in the room changed discernably at the moment of Draco’s hesitation and some of the observing Death Eaters shifted uncomfortably in confusion. Bellatrix was looking wildly between Draco’s still outstretched wand and Hermione, her excited grin sliding slowly from her face.

“Finish her Draco.” She hissed loudly, pushing past Voldemort towards her nephew.

When he didn’t move immediately to follow her command, any last bit of excitement fell from her face and pure anger took over, distorting her features. “Kill her!” She screamed out and her voice echoed off the cavernous walls.

Draco held Hermione’s eyes for just a second longer before his lips curved up into a slight smile and he dropped his wand.

“No.” He said firmly. And all hell broke loose.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry... not really. It had to end this way, I swear. What else is going to entice you guys to come back and finish the story with me?   
> Hope everyone is safe and can find some escape in this story from the absolute crap that is happening in the world today. Thank you for sticking with me this far. Love and appreciate each and every one of you.


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really hoping to finish this story before school starts back up again so I don't fall back into the long pauses between updates. Hopefully in my frantic writing there aren't too many errors, though if you do find some feel free to point them out. All editing is done by me and in real life I'm the person who turns in the first draft of a paper :D

As the Death Eaters comprehended what had just happened and finally processed Draco’s refusal, Bellatrix screamed out with rage, lunging past Voldemort towards her nephew. Draco deflected her easily and threw up a shield charm at the sudden onslaught of spells that came his way from the other Death Eater bystanders. The force of several spells against his shield had Draco bracing, gripping his wand with both hands.

The act of Draco’s betrayal must have come as more of a shock than Voldemort had experienced in some time as he simply stood frozen and watched as the ballroom suddenly turned into a battle zone. He didn’t even raise his wand in Draco’s direction as the younger wizard shot back quick hexes towards his opponents, dropping two of them easily. Even with his propensity not to kill, Draco was a skilled duelist, something that had made him an asset to whatever side he was fighting on.

Hermione was scrambling to her knees the moment Draco turned to defend himself, finding it somewhat difficult with her hands still tied behind her and her muscles aching from the residual effects of Bellatrix’s Crucio. What she wouldn’t give for her post-cruciatus potion right now. Her eyes were wide as they took in the scene of Draco holding off the other four Death Eaters by himself.

Movement from the floor to his left caught Hermione’s eye and she inhaled sharply as Bellatrix pushed herself up from where Draco had thrown her, raising her black wand towards him with bared teeth.

“Draco watch out!” Hermione yelled, eyes wide as a bright green jet of light shot out in his direction. She felt frozen where she stood, and her heart skipped as Draco’s head snapped in the direction of his aunt. He blocked the killing curse just a moment before it reached him and Hermione let out a breath.

He grunted as in his deflection a stinging curse from one of the remaining Death Eaters caught him in the shoulder and radiated like electricity down his arm. With a snarl he dropped the offending opponent and pulled up a shield charm in front of him again.

The bangs echoed off the high ceilings and seemed to pull Voldemort from his stupor as the man yelled out in a sudden burst of rage as he started to send hex after hex in Draco’s direction. Hermione tried frantically to wriggle her hands free from the bindings, but the rope was still too tight, causing her fingers to tingle from the lack of blood flow. Tearing her eyes away from the fight in front of her, she looked around for anything that could help.

As she turned, she immediately felt her heart drop as she came face to face with another horror. Greyback didn’t seem to be paying much attention to the main fighting either, instead he was several feet from her, a sneer spreading across his face as he took in her vulnerable position. Hermione swallowed hard and took a step back as Greyback started to stalk towards her.

“Just you and me, poppet.” He said just loud enough for her to hear over the noise of the fight.

Hermione never really understood his obsession with physically dealing with his victims. He was a wizard after all and had a wand. Using a _Stupefy_ or something worse to deal with her would be much, much easier than the effort he put in to hunt her down. He was an animal, Hermione thought coldly as she backed several more steps away from him.

Draco had stupefied another two of the Death Eaters and was down to the final three standing. The sudden force of one of Voldemort’s spells had Draco stumbling backwards, barely catching himself as he slammed against the hard floor, but still holding his wand up to defect spells. He was definitely on the defense now, barely finding any time to throw a hex of his own.

As he briefly tried to push up from the floor, he caught sight of Hermione and almost lost concentration. She was still backing quickly away from the advancing Greyback, eyes wide with fear though he saw with some relief that she had finally twisted her wrist free of her bindings. She was all but defenseless against the massive figure approaching her. He had forgotten about the werewolf for a moment and cursed himself as he pulled back the shield protecting him from Voldemort and his aunt and shifted his effort in her direction.

The hex he shot out at the werewolf hit the man strait in the back and sent him flying forward, falling just to the left of Hermione who cried out in surprise as Greyback’s body slammed to the floor besides her. She whipped her head around and found Draco still lying on the floor and met his eyes for a split second before he yelled out in pain as Bellatrix sent a slicing hex that caught his right shoulder.

“No!” Hermione yelled out in surprise and started to run to Draco but was instead yanked off her feet as Greyback’s massive hand snatched out to catch her ankle. She hit the tile floor hard, wrenching her shoulder out of joint as she landed on her side. The splitting pain that zipped down her arm made her scream, but she was still aware enough to kick out as Greyback pulled on her ankle to yank her across the floor to him.

She gasped with pain and anger as Greyback loomed over her, straddling her hips as his hand connected hard with the side of her head. Flashes of light burst across her vision and she wasn’t sure if it was from the hexes still being sent between Draco and Voldemort or from being hit. Spittle from Greyback’s snarls hit her cheek.

Several feet away, Draco was failing and he knew it. Both Voldemort and Bellatrix were advancing further on him and he was purely using defensive spells now. Sweat slid down his forehead and his breath came heavily with the effort just to hold them at bay. He had known it would come to this the moment he refused to kill Hermione. And suddenly he was very, very tired of fighting. It had been years of holding the careful façade that kept him alive, the façade that Hermione had broken through in only a few weeks.

With the thought of Hermione flooding his mind, he let out a yell as he struck out against his aunt, a final attempt to push back against the attack. The black-haired witch stumbled backwards into Voldemort with the force of his attack, giving Draco the brief moment he needed to push back up to his feet. He bared his teeth as Bellatrix’s eyes widened in shocked surprise. She had trained him since he was sixteen to be a ruthless fighter, did she really think that she could beat him now?

Another hex flew from the tip of his wand in her moment of surprise and Draco didn’t miss the way Voldemort cowardly ducked behind Bellatrix as the spell hit her square in the chest. The witch screamed out with rage and pain, bending at the waist as bees started to fly like a torrent from her mouth.

Draco watched with a brief moment of smug satisfaction, making a mental note to thank Theo for teaching him that hex in second year. He only had a moment to congratulate himself before he was pushing forward, on the offense once again as he fought one on one with the darkest wizard to ever live.

The determination with which he pushed forward blocked out everything else and with triumph he saw a flicker of fear in the red eyes. Bellatrix was still spewing bees as Draco stepped around her body in his advance on the Dark Lord. Angry half screams fell from Voldemort’s lips with every attempt he sent in Draco’s direction, each one a bright green flash of light that Draco shielded.

They were almost on even ground and Draco raised his arm to cast yet another spell. His gains had him feeling almost a sliver of optimism and he wondered briefly if Potter would be upset he didn’t get the chance to kill Voldemort before Draco finished him.

“Stop!”

The shout that echoed loudly off the marble had Draco pulling up short, pausing in his cast just as Voldemort did the same. He was not one to be easily distracted once he started dueling, but knowing that the voice came from behind him and knowing the man it came from, had him following this order where he had defied all others.

The three duelers still conscious all turned in the same direction and a sneer spread across Voldemort’s face as he took in the sight, though he was breathing heavily. Bellatrix coughed out a few stray bees before she let out a victorious cry of delight. Draco stood rigid, wand still held tight in his grip as residual adrenaline coursed through his body, urging it to move while the fear that now gripped him held him frozen in place.

In the middle of the ballroom, Greyback was standing once again, one arm wrapped around Hermione’s neck while the other, Draco saw with rage, held a knife. The tip was pressing just below Hermione’s ribs and Draco could see a slight darkening of her grey shirt around the knife where it had pierced her skin during her initial struggle. One of her arms hung at her side limply while she dug the nails of her other hand into the arm around her neck, pulling to no avail.

For the second time in her life, Hermione found herself under a knife in this room. Though she couldn’t decide which time she had felt more scared.

“Drop your wand.” Greyback said with a snarl as he threateningly pressed the knife tip a bit deeper into Hermione’s abdomen, causing her to cry out sharply in pain. It was angled just so that if slipped in, the knife would lodge directly under her ribcage into her lungs. She would be dead in minutes.

Seeing the blood stain grow larger with the knife’s advancement, Draco immediately dropped his wand, hearing it clatter across the tile. His heart was pounded in his ears and he felt the pure anger pulsing with the same ferocity. His eyes never left Hermione even as Voldemort and Bellatrix stepped around him. As his aunt passed, she reached out and yanked at his hair like she had every time she had defeated him as a boy. He winced at the sharp pain and his head snapped to the side, but otherwise didn’t react.

Hermione was trying not to breath too hard in an effort to avoid any movement against the sharp blade, though her lungs begged for more air. It was almost dizzying and the pressure against her throat by Greyback’s arm didn’t help. She closed her eyes in concentration, trying to quell the panic that made her heartbeat faster and faster.

Draco kept his eyes glued on her face and his concern grew with how pale her face was becoming. He wished she would open her eyes so that he convey some sort of support for her, to tell her silently to keep holding on.

As Voldemort came to stand next to Greyback, he took several deep breathes before smoothing his tousled robes as he fought the urge to kill Draco right then and there. No, the younger wizard did not deserve a quick, merciful death. For that is what a killing curse would be at this point, merciful. With a betrayal like this, he deserved to suffer. And Voldemort was only too happy to oblige. 

“You disappoint me, Draco.” Voldemort spat out in a hiss, the fiery rage breaking through his tone.

A snappy retort rose to Draco’s lips but knowing that Hermione’s life was very much on the line, he kept his mouth shut.

“You traitorous, deluded, dishon—” Voldemort started to spit out insults in quick succession, but was sharply cut off by the door at the other end of the hall slamming open against the marble pillars.

Everyone jumped in surprise and turned to face the noise, Greyback only looking over his shoulder as holding Hermione restricted his range of motion.

Three figures in black robes rushed into the room, barely pausing to take in the carnage that was a result of the earlier fight. They were blind to everything else around them and instead went straight to Voldemort and kneeled before him. Draco recognized one as Dolohov and the other two as low-level Death Eaters. Each wore an expression of wild panic and fear, meaning only one thing.

“The Order is infiltrating Hogwarts, my Lord.” Dolohov wheezed out, a slight trickle of blood sliding down his temple as he spoke. The man didn’t dare meet Voldemort’s eyes, instead fixing his gaze on the hem of his robes on the floor.

The announcement, while not a surprise to Hermione or Draco, was a shock to the other three in the room, each of their eyes widening with shock. Draco knew they viewed Hogwarts as impenetrable, learning from the Order’s mistakes the first time it was sieged. Voldemort himself had cast the wards around the school, along with some of the highest trained curse breakers from around the world. And yet they had failed.

“What?!” Voldemort yelled, no longer able to hold his emotions in check.

Hermione’s eyes had opened at the announcement and immediately met Draco’s, the fire burning in their brown depths once again. It had begun, and not a moment too soon.

“How many are there?” Voldemort hissed as he began to pace, shoving Bellatrix sharply out of his way.

“Hundreds.” One of the lower level Death Eaters said, quickly ducking his head back down after making the mistake of meeting the furious red eyes.

Voldemort yelled out and shot an uncontrolled burst of magic from his wand across the room, crashing one of the ornate crystal chandeliers to the ground. He almost panted as rage overwhelmed him and crystals flew across the floor near their feet.

If it had just been his life on the line, Draco would have been enjoying the Dark Lord’s breakdown. But Greyback still held the knife tightly pressed against Hermione and he could see by the few tears that slid from the corners of her eyes that he was pressing harder into her with the new announcement.

“We can’t lose the castle, my Lord.” Bellatrix whispered, bowing her head like a puppy as Voldemort rounded on her.

“We won’t.” He spit out at her and finally stopped his pacing. His red eyes flicked over everyone still in the room as if calculating what move to make next.

After another moment of tension, Voldemort turned to Draco with an odd expression of sudden clarity.

“Despite your treasonous actions, you are still a Death Eater Draco, and I am still your master. You will fight with us.” He said coldly, red eyes flaring in anger as if he, himself hated that he was making the suggestion.

Draco almost smirked. They needed him. As large as Voldemort’s forces were, there were few of them that were truly skilled enough to be able to defend a structure as large as Hogwarts. Though he’d just have to disappoint them. Swallowing hard, he shifted his eyes away from Voldemort to meet Hermione’s again and she gave a miniscule shake of her head, hardening his resolve.

He met the red eyes once again. “I’ll never fight for you again.” He said firmly, finally feeling the last bit of fear that he had held close over the past six years slip away. He had lost everything to this war; his freedom, his family, his innocence, all that was left was his life.

At Draco’s defiance, Voldemort’s lips drew back from his pointy teeth in a type of silent snarl. For a brief moment, he looked as if he was about to strike out at the younger wizard before his features suddenly shifted. The tight expression relaxed, and Voldemort turned his head sharply in Greyback’s direction who had been watching his master with an intense concentration.

Before Draco could realize what was going to happen, Voldemort gave a sharp nod towards the werewolf who snarled out a maniacal smile before he thrust the knife up into Hermione with a grunt of satisfaction. 

Draco’s heart stopped and his breath froze in his throat as he watched the scene unfold in slow motion, realizing a moment too late what was happening. He watched Hermione’s eyes widen as the blade slid to the hilt up into her abdomen and she gasped with the overwhelming painful shock of it.

“No!” Draco yelled out and in a split second was rushing towards her.

At Draco’s approach, Greyback dropped his arms from Hermione and stepped back, letting the injured witch crumple unsupported to the floor. She fell on her back, gasping in pain as her free hand found the blade still buried within her and with a scream through clenched teeth, she yanked it out.

Draco fell to his knees beside her just as the blade clattered to the floor and he watched with panic as bright red blood began to spill uninhibited from the wound.

Hermione’s frightened eyes met his and she whimpered in pain as she tried to press her hand against the wound to eb the free flow of blood. It seeped through her fingers, staining the white marble red beneath her body. Draco didn’t know what to do, panic overwhelming any semblance of logical thought as his hands instinctively met hers over the wound, feeling her hot blood slip through his fingers as he tried to help her apply pressure.

Bellatrix was cackling somewhere in the distance, though the sound was deafened by the roar in Draco’s ears as he looked up from the puddle of blood forming beneath Hermione to her face. The warm brown eyes held his gaze frantically and her breathing was stuttered as she lifted her head to glance down at where she had been stabbed. Seeing the amount of blood spilling from her, she began to shake slightly, shock settling over her body. The terror Draco felt was overwhelming as she lowered her head back down, eyes sliding cloed.

“No!” He said harshly, reaching out to cup her face in one of his hands. “Look at me, Granger.” Hermione’s eyes blinked opened, though he could tell she was having a hard time keeping them open.

“Keep looking at me” He prompted. “You don’t get to die, not now.” The blood from his hand smeared across her cheek as he forced her to look at him, his other hand still pressing down hard over hers on the wound.

“Draco…” His name slipped from her lips in a breathless whisper, eyes wide with pain and fear. "I don't feel..." She grimaced in pain and he could almost see the turmoil of thoughts running through her mind. Even in all the danger they had faced, never did he think that it would end like this.

“Will you fight to save her life?”

The sudden noise of Voldemort’s voice was cool and collected as he spoke, though it grated over Draco’s already frayed nerves. He almost didn’t register the words with so much of his attention on Hermione dying in front of him. Then they finally reached his brain and Draco blinked as he comprehended what was just said.

Not taking the pressure from Hermione’s abdomen, Draco turned his head to look up at Voldemort who was standing in front of the group of Death Eater spectators, wishing that he could kill every last one of them. The snake was ever evident in Voldemort’s features as he stared down at the duo before him, not even blinking as Hermione started to breath in stuttered gasps, the skin of her cheek growing cold against Draco’s fingers.

“What?” Draco hissed, definitely not in the mood to play games right now.

Voldemort met the enraged grey eyes easily. “Will you fight for me to save her life?”

Draco’s eyes narrowed slightly before glancing back down at Hermione. Her eyes were once again closed and bright spots of blood appeared on her now pale lips as she breathed with increasingly difficulty. While not understanding the full implication of Voldemort’s question, in that moment he knew he would do anything to keep her with him even for a minute longer. He couldn’t lose her.

“Yes.” Draco said with finality and once again looked up at the man he hated more than anything else in the world. “Yes.”

Voldemort’s mouth curved into a grotesque smile and he nodded slightly. Bellatrix behind him starting to protest as he pointed his wand at Hermione and said a quick chant under his breath.

When the spell was complete a dark grey smoke-like substance slid from the end of Voldemort’s wand and floated through the air towards the two on the ground. Other than Hermione’s rattling breaths, the room was completely silent and Draco held his breath as he watched the eerie substance make it’s way towards the location of Hermione’s injury. He felt a sickening cold as it slid through his fingers down into Hermione.

Immediately the flow of blood that had been constant since she had first been stabbed stopped, and Hermione’s eyes sprang out with a sharp gasp of pain. She choked as she tried to draw in a breath, her back arching off the ground as the icy feeling spread like lightening from her wound through her abdomen and chest.

Draco’s eyes widened as he fell back from her onto his heels, pulling his blood-soaked hands back as whatever the spell was worked on her. After less than a minute, her muscles relaxed again and she collapsed back to the ground, breathing out sharply as the cold settled into her very being.

Draco felt a glimmer of hope as her eyes finally opened and met his, thought it was quickly dashed seeing that the once warm brown irises were now an iridescent light green. It was more than surprising to see the shift in her appearance and he let out a sharp breath. His expression must have given away his surprise as Hermione’s brows furrowed in concern.

“What was that?” Draco asked, hesitantly reaching out to touch Hermione’s skin but then immediately drawing back as he felt her. She was cool under his fingers, like she was already dead for hours, any warmth of life quickly dissipating into the atmosphere around them.

With surprise, Hermione found that she could breathe easily and she didn’t feel any pain as she propped an elbow beneath her to look down at the no longer bleeding, but still gaping wound in her abdomen. Nothing in her healer’s education had taught her how to accomplish such an act, and she knew immediately that whatever spell Voldemort had used on her, it was dark magic.

“A stasis charm,” Voldemort said simply. “Linked directly to me. If anything happens to me then she goes right back to the way she was before.”

Hermione’s eyes snapped up in shock to meet his and she immediately felt nauseous. It wasn’t exactly as if he had made her a horcrux, but he had linked his life force to hers, ensuring that as long as he was alive then so was she.

It was brilliant, she thought with hatred. What better way to get Draco to fight to protect his master than to ensure that he was also fighting to protect Hermione. Though it also meant that if Harry was finally able to kill Voldemort, then in effect he would be killing her as well.

“You will fight for me, Draco.” Voldemort spoke again. “And I’ll spare her. She can be your spoils of victory, though your wife may have something to say about that.”

Hermione’s eyes glanced sharply over to Draco with a knowing expression, something Voldemort caught with surprise. Understanding settled in and another wave of betrayal and rage towards Draco Malfoy and the mudblood swept over him. “Then again, maybe she wouldn’t object as much as we think.” He said with a hiss.

Hermione shifted her eyes back to Draco who was still staring at Voldemort. She could see the muscles in his jaw clenching. He had agreed so quickly to Voldemort’s compromise, though the full extent of its implications were only now being fully realized. Would it be worth it?

Finally, Draco nodded in agreement, effectively sealing his fate. He would fight against the Order, against the people he had spent the past seven months helping. Any chance he had at escaping a fate at Azkaban disappeared as he knew he would not be able to switch sides at the battle like he originally planned. But then he realized that if he was in Azkaban, then Voldemort was dead… and subsequently so was Hermione. And suddenly he didn’t care so much about his fate; they were doomed either way.

Turning back to Hermione, he met her unfamiliar green eyes again. He knew he had disappointed her by choosing her life over saving the wizarding world, but to him there had never really been a choice.

“I’m sorry.” He said quietly to her.

Trying to keep the tears from forming in her eyes, Hermione nodded firmly, not trusting her voice. Quickly, Draco leaned forward and kissed her hard, his lips warm against her cold ones as she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping his shirt with her blood stained hand.

"You're going to be okay, Granger. I promise." Draco said as he pulled away and Hermione bit her lip as she nodded again, the bright green eyes holding his. After an agonizing moment, he pulled away and stood quickly and turned to face the posse of Death Eaters watching them. Draco stared defiantly back at them and the two lower-levels dropped their eyes from his icy glare. Even as a traitor he was still Draco Malfoy, and he still held a reputation that invoked fear.

Hermione sat the rest of the way up on the marble tile and watched the scene, cradling her dislocated shoulder against her body and was surprised to find that her movements did not bring any pain. Blood soaked her shirt and jacket, making her feel even colder than she already was. She watched as Voldemort continued to survey Draco, as if waiting for another surprise attack. Finally, he nodded and Bellatrix reluctantly returned Draco’s wand to him with a sound of disgust. Blood traitor was just as low as mudblood in her book, Hermione remembered, though it was ironic that the blood traitor was now a member of her own family.

“Greyback,” Voldemort said quietly to his dog, still holding Draco’s eyes. “Stay here would you? I’d hate for our guest to feel lonely.”

Greyback sneered at the direction and inclined his head, taking a step closer to where Hermione still sat on the blood-stained floor. “With pleasure, my Lord.”

If possible, Hermione’s blood ran colder, and Draco snarled slightly.

“That wasn’t part of the deal.” Everything screamed in him to not leave her alone with Greyback. The werewolf may not kill her, but sometimes death wasn't the worst thing that could happen to someone. 

Voldemort lifted a brow, but the rest of his expression stayed impassive. “The deal was for her life. And there she is, still alive. If you’d like her to be otherwise—”

“No.” Draco cut him off with a sharp reply, gritting his teeth as he founded himself forced to accept the situation as it was. 

“Then Greyback stays.” Voldemort said with finality.

The discussion was over, and Draco moved to join the small group of Death Eaters. He turned to look back a final time at Hermione, trying to drink in every inch of her one last time; to burn her image into his mind. She watched him in return, her pale features drawn tight with worry and fear, wide eyes flicking over his now emotionless expression. They were all each other had in this moment, and the responsibility for her survival had fallen on Draco's shoulders. He had already proven that he would do whatever it took to save her, but would it be enough?

He held her eyes until the very moment pops of apparation started to sound around him, and he was pulled with them into the crushing darkness, towards the last battle he would ever face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well maybe you guys should just expect cliffhangers at this point? They just end the chapter at such a nice number of words that I can't bring myself to add more. Plus a small, evil part of me enjoys the suspense. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed it! I encourage you to leave comments as it really eggs me on to keep writing :)


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING!!!  
> This chapter holds very explicit sexual assault scenes at the beginning and I urge you to skip down past the *** chapter break if you want to avoid reading that part. Please only read what you are comfortable with. 
> 
> This is a long chapter and my intention is to have this one and the next be companion chapters, each told from different POVs but happening simultaneously on the timeline.

Hermione took a moment to process the events of the last hour when the small group of Death Eaters and Voldemort disappeared, leaving her alone with Greyback. Everything had happened so fast and now she felt absolutely hopeless. The speed at which her emotions flipped was dizzying and quite honestly annoying.

Draco had chosen her, but in doing so he had forsaken everything that she and the Order had ever worked for. But even though she wanted to, it was hard to be mad at him, knowing that if the roles were reversed, she didn’t know if she could have watched him die either. Her emotions were conflicted on how she felt about his actions, even more so knowing that her life was now tied to Voldemort like a horcrux.

And then she thought about the fact that if nothing else had confirmed Draco’s feelings for her, this certainly did. Hermione sighed and pushed at the curls that had been pulled loose from the bun at the nape of her neck during the fight. It was too late for them, she thought with dismay.

Pushing the disappointing thoughts away, she refocused. She couldn’t even imagine what was happening at Hogwarts right now and hated that she wasn’t there with her friends. Hated it even more that she wished them success knowing that it would mean she never got to experience the world they had fought so relentlessly for.

She mused over the likely events of the battle for several minutes before pushing everything away and taking a deep breath. Hermione had been ignoring Greyback thus far who was watching her with searing yellow eyes and continued to do so, instead turning her attention internally. The spell that Voldemort had used on her was completely foreign, something she had never even heard of though she had no doubt that it came from a book similar to _The Darkest Arts._

The inquisitive portion of her brain wondered just how it had worked. It seemed that not only had the spell stopped the flow of blood from her injury and kept her alive, but it also appeared to have dulled all pain that she had been feeling prior to it being cast. The wound on her abdomen throbbed dully and she found that it was still somewhat difficult to take deep breaths from the blood that was likely sitting in her lungs, but it was nothing like the blinding pain of before. Her shoulder as well was not as painful, and she prodded it gingerly.

While she couldn’t do anything to her wound without magic, she could take care of the shoulder. Grimacing, Hermione slowly shrugged out of the blood-soaked jacket she was still wearing in order to have better access to the injured joint. Once she was down to the thin grey t-shirt, she felt over the dislocation with her functioning arm, pressing here and there to figure out which reduction technique would work best. Finally, Hermione took a deep breath and bit her lip, taking the limp arm with her other she slowly rotating it outward as she lifted up.

The pain returned in full force and Hermione gasped loudly in pain as the joint audibly slid back into place with the manipulation. Her heart was pounding with the effort and she took a moment to take deep breaths as her vision swam for a minute. So she could definitely still feel full pain, she thought briefly, dispelling the walking zombie theory that had concerningly passed across her thoughts earlier.

Greyback watched her ministrations, sneering at her actions and little cry of pain as she fixed her shoulder. She was stronger that he had initially given her credit for. His master had said that he was not allowed to kill her, but he had said nothing about not having a bit of fun. And since he had been left behind from the fight to babysit, Greyback felt he deserved some sort of compensation.

Hermione’s head jerked up at movement to find Greyback stalking straight towards her. Not for the first time she wished that Draco had just killed the man that night those months ago in the Parkinson’s garden. It would have saved them both pain and grief, and it was a mistake that both Hermione and Draco regretted.

The werewolf moved with intent towards her and Hermione tried to scoot back on the ground away from him, her hands slipping on the wet pools of her blood beneath her. He was too quick though and reached down once he caught up to her, yanking on her arms to pull her to standing. The movement jerked at Hermione’s still sore shoulder and she bit back a cry of pain.

She was jerked face to face with Greyback as he gripped her upper arms and she found she was very tired of being manhandled by this animal. With the anger she couldn’t help herself as she spit out into his sneering face. His expression shifted immediately into one of anger and he snarled as he shook her slightly, reaching up to grip her chin in one of his large hands.

“You’re going to regret that, poppet.” He spat back in her face before letting go and pulling out his thus far unused wand from his robes.

For a moment Hermione thought that he was going to kill her as he raised his wand, but then she remembered that he would likely find more satisfaction in ripping her throat out with his teeth than cleanly disposing of her with an _Avada._ She flinched at the movement of his wand anyways and squeaked as Greyback pushed her backwards into the chair he had summoned.

Eyes wide in surprise, Hermione barely had time to shift before ropes had formed out of thin air and tied both hands and ankles to the chair arms and legs. She looked down at her limbs and tried to pull at the rope, finding with a huff, that she was once again tied up.

Greyback grinned at her frustration and thrust his wand back in its home. Rubbing his hands together briefly, he looked around the empty room as if expecting someone to walk in any moment. Finally he turned his attention back to Hermione and ran his eyes up and down her body.

“Alone at last poppet.” He said bluntly and took a step towards her. “I’m feeling a bit hungry.”

Hermione glared at his approach, knowing exactly what he meant with his words. “Kitchen is down the hall, I’m sure Draco wouldn’t mind sharing.” She said sharply. 

Now that the fear of almost dying had passed, she was left with only anger at having been used as a pawn in Voldemort’s plan to continue controlling Draco. She was tired of not having a say in the direction her life was going. For fourteen years she had been forgoing her wants and desires to fight for the greater good, and look where it had gotten her.

Greyback had the audacity to laugh at the venom behind her words. He grinned widely as he leaned over her, placing both hands on either arm of the chair. The foul scent of his breath washed over her face and Hermione turned her head away as he stopped just inches from her.

“What else can that pretty mouth do?” He asked more quietly, though not lacking the chilling malice that she had come to associate with him.

Hermione stared at the wall to her left, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer or even a glance. If she could ignore Ron’s pleas in school to copy her transfiguration essay, then she could certainly block out the werewolf. After a few seconds Greyback snarled, determined to make his presence known.

He reached up and grabbed her chin again, forcing her head around so that she was once again facing him. The pain of the pressure on her jaw was again just a dull ache because of the curse, and Hermione glared up into the yellow eyes just inches from her own. She wanted to bite the fingers that dug into her skin but steeled her resolve and simply stared back at the werewolf.

“You still think you hold power.” Greyback said more quietly and a slow sneer spread across his face as he surveyed Hermione’s expression. “Oh, poppet, look around,” his own eyes sweeping the room in demonstration, “you’re all alone. Alone, and weak.”

He chuckled and took a deep breath of her scent, groaning with pleasure as his eyes rolled back slightly before he dropped his head to her neck. Hermione’s eyes widened in surprise and a wave of disgust rolled over her as she felt his lips and tongue working over the sensitive skin. The feeling was sickening, and a cold knot of dread formed in her stomach.

She could handle whatever was going to come next. She could get through this, she repeated over and over as his lips slid down her throat to her chest. She jumped in surprise as his hand left her jaw and dropped down to squeeze at her breast, his large hand fully covering the mound.

Hermione made a small noise in the back of her throat at the contact and wished that her legs were free so she could jam her knee up into his groin. He sneered up against her skin and pulled back to look up at her, his other hand falling to rest on her right thigh.

“You’ll be begging for me by the time I’m done with you.” He growled out and Hermione’s lips twisted in a grimace.

“Doubtful.” She replied sharply, despite knowing that it would be better if she just kept her mouth shut.

His yellow eyes narrowed at her words and the grin fell away. With a snarl he slapped her, making her cry out as her head snapped to the side. Renewed anger fired within her; she was really sick of being hit by him.

“Don’t fucking touch me.” She yelled at him, whipping her head around to glare at him again. “I will cut your fucking hands off.”

He seemed somewhat surprised at her outburst as his eyes widened slightly but then he laughed. “You’ll be dead before you even get the chance, deal or no.”

Hermione smirked, “If I’m dead that you can be sure you won’t survive Draco.”

It was a good threat to use against him, and he knew that she wasn’t lying in her words. Though Greyback didn’t expect that Malfoy would survive the battle to be any threat to him. In truth he didn’t have much hope that any of them would survive the battle after seeing how quickly Voldmort was losing control over his followers in the recent attacks. And with that thought in mind, Greyback leaned forward in Hermione’s face, determined to enjoy whatever moments he had left.

“The little Malfoy doesn’t scare me poppet.” He said sharply before lunging forward and pressing his lips hard against her.

Hermione tried to jerk her head away from his, but he twisted a hand in her hair to hold her still. His dry lips moved harshly over hers, teeth biting out at her bottom lip as he mercilessly attacked her. He tasted like death, Hermione though with a gag, pressing her lips hard together to avoid any further contamination.

Greyback wrenched back on her hair and looked down at her with a sneer. “Frigid bitch.” He said with a laugh before dropping to his knees in front of her, lodging his hips between her spread thighs. Hermione swore and struggled harder against the ropes as his eyes once against left her face to roam over her body. He was breathing deeply and the hunger evident in his eyes made Hermione’s heart clench with fear.

She truly felt helpless as his hands reached out and started to roam over her body, sliding under the hem of her shirt to touch her bare skin. There wasn’t anything she could do as his hands pawed at her breasts, yanking the cups of her bra down to fully touch her. He had moved forward again to place his lips against her throat again, sucking at her neck while his fingers pinched her nipple.

Hermione bit her lip against the horrific sensations and clenched her hands into fists as she thought of anything else, pulling up every occlumency shield she had every constructed and huddling behind it. There was nothing she could do to protect her body, but she could shield her mind.

She felt his hands fall to the button on her pants and closed her eyes to block everything out. In her healer studies she had learned of dissociation, though until now had never fully understood what it meant. Behind the fortress she pulled up in her mind, even though she felt everything that he was doing to her, it was like there was a cloud over the experience, numbing her emotions. She felt out of her body, experiencing things second hand from within the windowless safe room she was hiding in within her mind.

Greyback slid his tongue down her chest and pulled her shirt down, mouthing at her bared breast as his hands tried to yank her jeans down her hips. It proved to be more difficult than he expected due to her positioning in the chair, and he growled and pulled harder. The movement jerked Hermione to consciousness and she opened her eyes wide as in frustration as Greyback jammed his hand down the front of her jeans and nickers.

It was more intrusive than she had expected, and she tried to move her hips back from the assault. His fingers were rough against her sensitive skin and she bit back tears as he painfully rammed his fingers into her.

Greyback grunted against her neck and rocked his hips against her leg. He was hard, Hermione felt with disgust and felt herself start to shake slightly in the awareness of what was happening to her. To go any further he would need to untie her, Hermione realized, maybe she could get away then.

She jerked her head away from the sudden feeling of Greyback grazing her neck with his teeth. Even though she was fated to die, she would not subject herself to his bite. At her movement, Greyback pulled back to meet her eyes, his hands busy as his fingers slid deeper into her body.

“Fiesty, frigid, little bitch.” Greyback said with a sneer, looking slowly down her body, past her bared breast to where his fingers worked against her. “Are you going to scream, little mudblood?” He breathed out, obviously finding immense pleasure in his actions. “I’ve so missed your screams. I think about them often, so very often.”

The way he breathed out the last words and thrust his hips against her thigh told Hermione exactly when he thought of her.

Finally he reached his breaking point and snarled as he wrenched his fingers from her and started to fumble with the fastenings on his own pants, all but ripping the fabric from him. Hermione’s eyes widened as she caught site of the length of him. Frantically she tried in vain to pull at the ropes again, and a sob escaped her throat when they did nothing but bite into her wrists.

After removing her boots from her feet, with inhuman strength Greyback snapped the ropes that held her legs tied to the chair. Gripping her ankles harshly, he yanked her towards him so her body slid down the chair, her arse resting on the edge. Hermione struggled against the new position and tried to kick out at Greyback who simply wedged himself between her thighs to hold her down.

She did scream them, letting out all of the frustration, fear and anger that had grown in magnitude over the course of the last few hours. Even though she had told herself that she could get through this before, now that the act was imminent, she now realized she would rather die than go through this violation.

Greyback loomed over her and sneered as his hands once again went to the waist of her jeans and started to pull. Hermione screamed out obscenities at him and twisted her body away from his hands, doing everything she could to make his task more difficult.

“Stay still.” He grunted as she jammed a heel into the back of his thigh. He all but yelled in triumph as he was finally able to yank her jeans and nickers down over her hips and legs, leaning back only far enough to fully yank them off.

In the absence of the weight holding her down, Hermione was able to raise one bare leg and kick him square in the chest, sending him toppling backwards to the floor. Taking the moment of freedom Hermione wiggled back up in the chair and took in deep heaving breaths as she frantically looked around the room for anything that could help her.

It wasn’t enough though and Greyback lunged at her again, gripping her bare thighs and wrenching them apart as he yanked her down to the edge of the chair again. With a final snarl, he thrust forward and buried his length in her.

Hermione screamed with the spear of pain that even the curse couldn’t numb, her eyes staring wide open at the ornate ceiling above them. Greyback groaned with pleasure as he just leaned against her, one hand gripping her hip. Then with a grunt he began to move again, animalistic noises slipping from his throat which each hard thrust.

Hermione swallowed and bit hard into her lip, hard enough that it should have drawn blood, but it seems that the curse wouldn’t even allow her that much of a distraction. She fell deeper into studying the ceiling façade more closely, finding every small detail something she could latch onto and focus on. Anything to distract from what Greyback was doing to her.

She was staring at a slight sliver of gold that ran through the white marble above her when the thrusting movements against her stopped suddenly. Blinking back to reality, Hermione looked down at Greyback and saw with shock that he was staring over the back of the chair, eyes wide and mouth hanging open. For a moment Hermione thought that he had finished and was filled with disgust, but then the thought was dispelled as she saw a thin stream of blood appear at the corner of his mouth.

She barely had time to make a noise in in surprise as the man slumped forward suddenly, landing over her prone body. Over Greyback’s form, Hermione looked up and came face to face with the large eyes of Kildy. The elf was crouched on Greyback’s back, one hand holding onto his long hair while the other was wrapped around the handle of the knife that only an hour ago Hermione had pulled from her own body. The blade was currently buried in the back of Greyback’s neck, killing the werewolf instantly.

The rage in the small elf’s eyes was almost humorous had the situation not been so horrifying, and Hermione let out a stuttered breath.

“Kildy?” She choked out, barely able to form coherent thoughts in her shock.

The elf’s eyes slowly slid up from her victim to meet Hermiones. Immediately she let go of the knife and slid off of Greyback. There was fierce determination on the elf’s face as she snapped her fingers and his now dead body slid from Hermione. She hated the way it felt as the cool air hit her skin, making her feel more exposed than ever.

“Nasty, nasty man.” The elf growled with anger. “No one touches the mistress.”

Hermione moved back in the chair, trying to ignore the sharp pain between her legs. Frantically and still feeling residual confusion, she looked between Kildy and Greyback’s prone form, finding the size distinction between the two oddly funny given that the three-pound elf had just felled the large man. She must be losing it.

“Mistress,” Kildy said breathlessly, turning her full attention to Hermione and hurrying forward. “Is Miss alright? Kildy is so very, very sorry. Kildy didn’t know what to do. She saws the bad men hurt the master and mistress, but the master told Kildy that if anything bad ever happens she is to be hiding. Kildy did not want to hide Mistress, and when this wretched-” She kicked at Greyback’s head for emphasis “- hurting Miss, Kildy could not stay hidden any longer.”

The words fell in a torrent from the elf’s mouth and Hermione watched her with wide eyes, affection growing for the little elf.

“Kildy.” Hermione said firmly, interrupting the words that were still spilling from Kildy’s mouth. The large eyes met hers again and the elf was silent. “It’s alright. You’ve done more than enough.” Suddenly very conscious of her naked state, Hermione squirmed in the chair. “Please just untie me.”

With a start Kildy nodded and jumped forward at the request, and with a snap the ropes disappeared from Hermione’s wrists. Despite her entire body aching, Hermione moved quickly, readjusting her shirt and bra before snatching her discarded pants from the floor and quickly pulling them on. She stood fully upright sand felt a sudden rush of emotions sweep through her.

She wanted nothing more than to curl up on the floor and cry until there was nothing left in her. Her entire being was tired and for the first time in her life, Hermione felt that she would welcome death. She was cold all over and barely felt alive, knowing that in reality she was hanging in the odd limbo between life and death.

The thoughts racing through her mind felt jumbled and she blinked, trying to focus again. Get it together, she thought harshly to herself. She didn’t have to deal with what had just happened to her if she was dead, and with that thought she pushed all the memories of the past hour deep within the fortress.

Kildy was watching her with wary, concerned eyes when Hermione turned to the elf. “Kildy, thank you.” Hermione breathed out, knowing that she would never be able to express her gratitude fully for what the elf had done for her tonight. She owed her life twice over to house elves now, only grateful that the outcome had been different this time around.

“Miss is most welcome.” Kildy said with pride.

Hermione tried and failed to smile at the elf, not having the strength in her to find even a smidgen of happiness. It had been almost two hours since Hermione had been left alone with Greyback, the battle at Hogwarts was likely well underway. As determination drove her next actions, Hermione could only pray that the Order hadn’t been beaten yet.

There was still work to be done.

After pulling her boots on again, Hermione resigned herself to dig through the dead man’s robes. He had taken her wand when he first found her in the hallway, and she found it tucked in the opposite side of his robe where he stored his. She felt a surge of magic rush up her arm as she held it again.

Immediately she pointed it at the wound in her side and went through every healing charm she knew, watching with dismay as each of them failed to do anything to wound. The stasis spell that Voldemort had cast on her must work both ways; keeping her alive but not allowing her to be healed.

She couldn’t help herself, she realized with dismay, but she could help Harry.

Moving away from the carnage that the ballroom had become, Hermione rushed from the room into Draco’s study.

“Miss!” Kildy cried after her, following close on her heels. “Where is you going? Miss is injured!”

Hermione didn’t look back at the elf as she snatched a handful of floo powder from the pot next to the fireplace. “I’m fine. Or at least I will be. But there’s something I still need to do.”

She stepped into the grate and turned around to take one last look at the place she had called home for the past seven months, and the elf who had saved her life. “Please tell Draco I’m sorry.” Kildy blinked in confusion at her. “He’ll understand.” Hermione said quietly.

She barely waited for Kildy to nod before throwing down the powder and calling out her location.

***

The caves were deserted, just as Hermione had predicted they would be. She was easily able to retrace her steps from Christmas Eve, finding her way through the winding hallways until she finally reached the dead end where she had first found the door.

For a brief moment she forgot how she had made the door appear before, then remembered it was the same principle as the room of requirements. Hopefully her state of limbo didn’t prevent her from influencing the door and she focused on wanting to see the door, for it to appear to her. Every fiber of her being wanted to see that bloody door.

After a moment of nothing happening, Hermione almost screamed in frustration before she saw the first hint of black sludge forming on the wall in front of her. With a cry of triumph, Hermione almost danced with happiness as the rest of the door slowly began to appear.

After all the sludge had melted into the floor Hermione furrowed her brow as she remembered their original concerns with getting past the door. Ironically, she realized that there wasn’t a point in being concerned about the potential harm from opening the door when opening the door meant signing her death sentence. With a resigned sigh, Hermione took a step forward and placed her hand on the stone handle.

Even though she was expecting it, the feeling of dark magic settling over her skin still made her heart pick up speed. There were no immediate effects, likely due again to the stasis charm. Hermione briefly wondered how much Voldemort understood about the spell he had used. Did he know it would make her all but unaffected by any other magic, including that of his own making? It felt good to know that he had effectively protected her from himself.

Steeling her nerves, Hermione gripped her wand tightly and with a sharp intake of breath pushed against the heavy door.

The room itself was small with bits of greenery scattered about the rocky floor. It was dark and Hermione had to light the tip of her wand in order to illuminate the dark space. She didn’t have to look long for the snake and had barely caught sight of it before it struck out at her, dodging just in time to avoid the fangs as the long body shot past her.

“Fuck!” Hermione yelled out as she stumbled on the uneven surface, her wand arm flailing slightly.

This was so stupid, she thought as she spun and tried to locate the snake again. She had nothing that could destroy the snake, what the hell had she been thinking. Hermione Granger was not one to rush into things without being 110% prepared and yet here she was, fighting blind against a fucking snake. She hated snakes.

A quick movement in the corner of her eye had her spinning, wand raised in deflection as the snake struck again. Nagini hit the invisible shield with a smack and lay stunned on the ground for a few second as Hermione panted in fear. She cursed as it began to move again; of course a simple collision wasn’t going to get rid of it.

What would Draco do? Hermione though briefly as she braced her feet against the rock below and kept her eyes on the snake as it slithered around the perimeter. Then as she thought of Draco a thought struck her; she did have one thing that could destroy a horcrux.

Fighting against everything that told her not to even think about it, that it was stupid to attempt in such a small space. But what the hell, she was dead anyways. Hermione took a deep breath and moved her wand in a way and spoke the words that she had only ever read in textbooks or seen Goyle cast in the Room of Requirement.

The effect was immediate, and Hermione felt a rush of burning heat on her cold skin as Fiendfyre burst from the tip of her wand. The flames flew freely into the space and Hermione stumbled back against the wall with the force of the spell. She watched in rapture as fire flew away from her in every corner of the room and she held her breath as she watched Nagini curl in on herself in the far corner.

The heat was blistering but Hermione refused to leave until she saw this through. At once the flames reached the snake, and the moment it enveloped the animal a dark burst of smoke burst from the area the snake had once been.

Hermione watched, frozen in place as the smoke spun around above the dead snake before twisting into the form of a snake itself. It was almost a beautiful sight but then Hermione remembered the destructive nature of the horcruxes. Time to go, she thought with a start as the snake turned its beady black eyes on her.

She yelled as it struck out at her, her feet carrying her without thought towards the door. Between the snake and the fire that was still raging in the small space, she didn’t have time to think if the stasis spell would protect her from physical attacks as well as magical. She ran across the short distance to the door which had closed behind her when she had first entered.

It wouldn’t budge as she pushed at it. Swearing loudly, Hermione tried again without any luck. She could feel the fire at her back and didn’t even bother looking for the residual horcrux that she knew was still somewhere in the room. Taking two steps away from the door, she swung her wand over her head.

“Bombarda!” She screamed and flung her arms up to protect her face from the flying rock that flew at her as the door exploded.

With a shout of triumph Hermione surged forward, away from the heat, and away from the horcrux that screamed behind her as it finally died fully. Stumbling out into the hallway, Hermione fell to the hard floor and twisted back just in time to see the black sludge reform over the gaping hole in the rock, confining the fire behind it.

As the last sliver of heat disappeared with a loud bang, Hermione lay frozen on the floor, panting with exertion in the sudden silence of the cave. In her shock she tried to come to terms with the fact that she had just destroyed the final horcrux. Now the rest was up to Harry.

Hermione once again raised her wand and summoned her otter Patronus, feeling immense relief at the familiar, comforting sight.

“Find Harry,” She instructed sternly. “The snake is dead, finish him Harry. Finish this.” She spoke her message clearly, trying to keep her voice calm.

The otter regarded her for a moment with its curious eyes before sliding away and disappearing into the rock. All at once Hermione was left alone in the green light of caves. She let out a long breath and collapsed to the stone floor, rolling to her back as she reveled in what she had just done.

Harry would be free to kill Voldemort now, she thought slowly. For the first time in years, she knew that everything would finally be okay. She only wished she’d be around to see it. Killing the snake had been the thing they had all been waiting on, and once her Patronus found Harry, she knew he wouldn’t hesitate. Voldemort didn’t have long to live, and neither did she.

As she lay on the cold stone floor, her mind finally calmed, leaving her thoughts clear for the first time all day. She thought about her parents and felt almost excited at the prospect of seeing them. Muggle religion had never held much sway in her life but now that her own end was upon her, she would take any chance at seeing them again.

She thought about Ron, and Harry and Ginny with their baby. How she wished she could have met her godson. She would tell him how brave his family was, and how very special he was. She would have been there his entire life; playing with him as a child, waiting with his parents at King’s Cross as he left for Hogwarts, gifting him with his own copy of _Hogwarts a History_ as they sent him off to begin his own adventures. She would have loved to have been his godmother.

Then she thought of Draco and felt a pain in her chest at the thought of him. She almost got up from the floor to try and get to Hogwarts, if only to see him one last time. But she didn’t want him to have to watch her die knowing that there was nothing else he could have done. This was her choice, and he would know that the moment her Patronus made its appearance.

Harry would move forward with the plan, not knowing that he was killing his best friend as he killed his greatest enemy. The thought made Hermione feel guilty, knowing that it was something that he would carry the rest of his life. They had all made sacrifices, and this was just one more.

She didn’t know how long she lay on the cold stone ground; it could have been hours, or simply a few minutes. But she lay there in silence, waiting patiently for the inevitable.

“Come on, Harry.” She muttered into the dark, her fingers running lightly over the smooth wood of her wand as she had done since the day she bought it in Diagon Alley with her parents. “Just get on with it.”

It was as if she had summoned the action with her words, for as soon as she spoke a rush of magic fell over her, making her skin tingle. Hermione opened her eyes again and looked down as the cold sensation rushed out of her limbs, moving centrally until it reached the very spot of her injury. This was it, she thought briefly and watched as the same grey smoke-like cloud that had entered her in the Manor’s ballroom, spilled from the wound.

It floated up towards the ceiling of the hallways and disappeared into the rock without any theatrics. It was simply gone. Then all at once her pain returned, the searing tearing in her shoulder, the stab wound, between her legs and the burns on her arms. It took her breath away and she looked down quickly to find that she was once again bleeding heavily, and her breath rattled with the renewed flooding into her lung. Given the amount of blood she had lost on the marble floor in the Manor, she didn’t have much left.

Surprisingly, she didn’t feel panicked, more at peace. Feeling increasingly weak, she carefully lowered back to the floor and rested her head against the stone floor before losing consciousness entirely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will tell Draco's story and what happens at Hogwarts. Everything from then on will be from Draco's POV so say goodbye to Hermione :)


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you go! Holy smokes 40 chapters. This is the longest thing I have ever written and I'm living for it :)  
> For those that missed it, this is a companion chapter to chapter 39. They happen simultaneously on the timeline; this one from Draco's perspective. I definitely pulled scenes from DH for this chapter so all credit goes to JKR.

The castle was already under full siege when the small party of Death Eaters arrived with Voldemort. The Order had attacked at sunset, easily infiltrating the many wards that had protected the castle for several years. Draco knew that Bill Weasley had been key to moving through the wards so quickly and was immediately impressed with the man’s skill as a curse breaker.

By the time Draco followed Voldemort through the large front doors of the place he had called home for seven years, spells and curses were already flying in every direction. From the moment he stepped through the doors, this fight felt very different from the first battle that had been fought on these grounds; more intense, more deadly, and more populated. The Order had grown in the years and while Voldemort’s ranks still outnumbered them, the Death Eaters didn’t hold the passion and desperation that the Order did.

Spells and curses flew left and right as Draco kept close to Voldemort, fending off any attacks that came their way with shield charms. He longed for nothing more than to join the familiar Order forces and fight against the Death Eaters, to prove once and for all that he didn’t stand with them. But as he threw up another shield charm to protect Voldemort, he reminded himself for the hundredth time that he was protecting Hermione, not Voldemort.

He didn’t know the extent of the curse that was keeping her alive, having never heard of it before. If Voldemort died then she died, that much was clear, but what happened to her if Voldemort was hurt or cursed in some way? How closely were the two linked? Draco didn’t know the answer, but he certainly wasn’t going to allow Hermione to suffer anything else at another’s hands.

His mind had been in turmoil since leaving the Manor. While it may have been Hermione’s stubbornness that caused her to follow him when he didn’t return, he should have known she wouldn’t leave well enough alone. And with that thought came torrents of guilt for their current situation. In his efforts to protect her, he had put her in the most danger she had ever been in.

What was worse is that he knew she wouldn’t blame him; he had seen it in her eyes right before they were forced apart. She would say something along the lines of how every decision she had ever made was hers and hers alone. Bloody stubborn witch, Draco cursed as he swung a hex at an attacker.

There was still so much he wanted to say to her, things he had never said to anyone else. He should have told her how he felt weeks ago. Everything she brought out in him was new, something to be coveted but also feared. He wasn’t the person she deserved; she was too good for him. Even so, he would give anything for another chance with her, another chance to prove he wasn’t the man he had been forced to be all his life.

As they moved through the castle, Draco caught several confused and then angry expressions from the fighting Order members as they saw him flanking Voldemort. It had been the accepted assumption that Draco would fight alongside the Order once he had arrived at the battle, having no reason to continue the façade that he and Hermione had constructed over the past seven months.

In any other situation, Draco may have felt some semblance of guilt over his betrayal to the Order, but this was different. If they only knew why he was doing this, they would understand.

Voldemort moved easily through the fighting, confident in his assumption that nothing could harm him as long as the snake, his final remaining horcrux, was still living. There was an aura of arrogance that followed him as he sneered at enemies that dared to attack him. The Dark Lord had no expectation of dying tonight.

As they moved through the castle, Draco kept an eye out for Potter or Weasley. No one else would trust him at this point to listen to him given his current actions. But he still had hope that Hermione may have told her best friends that he hadn’t come back this morning and they would be worried about her. The rest of the Order would have just assumed that she had gone off to do her task and wouldn’t be looking for the witch during the battle.

Draco hissed in pain as a sudden stinging hex hit him in the back. Whipping around with murder in his eyes, he came face to face with the remaining Weasley twin.

“Betrayal must run in your blood, eh Malfoy?” The redhead called out. There wasn’t the usual humor in his words, replaced instead by an arrogant slur.

There wasn’t time for this, Draco thought as he contemplated the wizard. Every moment that he was away from Voldemort was just another moment that the Dark Lord could be injured, or view his absence as not upholding their deal and remove whatever stasis curse he had used on Hermione.

Another hex made Draco bare his teeth at the Weasley.

“Cat got your tongue?” George asked, holding his arms out to his side in a goading gesture. “Never figured you as one to pass a chance to screw someone over, Malfoy. You’ve done a bloody good job of it so far.”

Draco narrowed his eyes at the man and raised his wand. It would be so easy to hurt George, to drop him like a rock to the stone floor below them. He had fought with the Order half his life, become somewhat of an expert in the past couple of years and knew that he possessed the skills to take on even the most accomplished of Pheonix duelers, but he wouldn’t hurt them.

He sent a hex in George’s direction, seeing the red-headed wizard start to grin as Draco finally began to fight back. It seemed, Draco noted as he blocked a particularly nasty spell that George shot at him, that the Weasley twin was also an accomplished dueler.

As they fought Draco considered just surrendering and explaining the situation to the man, but as he was counting on Voldemort winning in order to secure Hermione’s life, Draco didn’t think anyone would take kindly to that.

In the grand scheme of things, Hermione’s life was not as important as saving the wizarding world, and Draco knew there were few people in the Order who would think otherwise. Who knew if this Weasley would be among them.

Knowing he was wasting time, Draco blocked George’s next hex and as the red-head swore at him, Draco took his opportunity and threw a stunning hex in his direction. The spell was successful, and George yelped as he flew backwards with the impact, strait into the dilapidated stone wall behind him. Draco stepped forward in surprise as some of the stones from the crumbling wall started to fall towards George’s vulnerable form.

As the wall started to collapse, Draco swore and cast a protective shield above his opponent, holding it in place as more and more stones started to rain down around him.

“Move!” Draco yelled out furiously, furrowing his brows in concentration as he held the charm against the bludgeoning of rock.

George was still slightly stunned from the impact of the stunning spell but his eyes widened as he looked up to see heavy blocks of stone coming down at him. Scrambling, the red-head moved as quickly as his muddled brain would allow and crawled across the scattered blocks as he moved away from the wall. Draco’s spell followed him as he moved, holding strong overhead until Georwas a safe enough distance away from the wall.

The Weasley turned with wide eyes in Draco’s direction as the shield charm dropped, stones still falling behind them. The open gape of his mouth indicated that he clearly didn’t know what to say given the fact that the man he had labeled a traitor had just saved his life.

Draco glared at him. “Stay out of my way Weasley.” He said in an icy tone before turning away from George’s conflicted expression, half bracing for a spell to hit him in the back. But nothing came.

Voldemort was nowhere in sight when Draco started to move through the castle to look for him. The Dark Lord would have gone in search of Potter, that much he knew for sure. Both sides knew that this battle was going to define what the course of the future of the wizarding world, and it would come at the death of either Voldemort or Potter.

The noise was overwhelming, and Draco moved through the castle, pausing every now and then to fend off attacks from Order members he had never seen before. There were giants fighting on the Dark Lord’s side and Draco saw several Order members fly back from one swing of a huge gauntlet. It was pure chaos, just like it had been at the last battle of Hogwarts, so much so that Draco felt as if they had gone back in time.

At the last battle he had avoided the fighting as much as he could, attempting to get out of the castle to find his parents. This time it was different; he was older, more experienced, fiercer. He fought anyone that stepped up to him as he made his way through the castle, catching both the hatred in the looks from the Order, and the approval from his fellow Death Eaters. If only they knew the motivation behind his actions…

Time was a relative concept. If anyone had asked those fighting, they would have thought it had only been minutes, adrenaline making the hour that passed fly by. Even though they fought with everything they had left, there didn’t seem to be an end in sight. Both sides were winning and losing small battles, bodies dropped to the floor all around the castle.

Draco was breathing heavily as he found his way back to the great hall. He felt numb with his actions, moving as if on a puppet’s strings as he fought against the Order.

A familiar cackling laugh caught his attention from the far end of the hall and Draco looked up just in time to see Bellatrix fire a killing curse towards Ron. He was just about to step in to block the curse when Molly Weasley burst forth, throwing her body between her son and Draco’s monstrous aunt, a shield charm deflecting the green burst.

“Not my son, you bitch!” The Weasley matriarch snarled out as she glared into the black eyes.

Bellatrix grinned with glee as they started to duel, cackling with every spell she threw at Mrs. Weasley. But it wasn’t enough and soon the black-haired witch was on the defense, stepping back with the force of the other witch’s attack. Draco watched with anticipation, silently cheering Mrs. Weasley on.

He saw the moment of opportunity at the same moment Mrs. Weasley did, eyes widening as a black burst of light hit Bellatrix square in the chest.

Bellatrix looked down stunned at where the curse had hit her, her arms raised above her as her wand clattered to the floor. Mrs. Weasley’s lips curved upwards as Bellatrix’s skin began to shrivel, dehydrating right in front of them. With a final shout of triumph, a burst of energy shot from Mrs. Weasley’s wand colliding with Bellatrix and shattering the witch to dust.

It wasn’t until Mrs. Weasley lowered her wand that Draco realized he had been holding his breath. The death of his aunt was something he had wished for most of his life, to see if happen in real life was almost surreal. He almost started smiling but then caught the eye of Mrs. Weasley who had turned and saw him standing across the battle strewn hall.

He could see a flicker of anger in her eyes at his presence, but it disappeared as he inclined his head towards her, silently congratulating and thanking her on her actions. Mrs. Weasley’s eyes narrowed slightly but then her face relaxed and she gave him a curt nod before turning to her family members that had gathered around her.

There wasn’t time to interact any further as a tremendous crash sounded from the outer courtyard, making the floor beneath Draco’s feet vibrate with the impact. For some reason his feet started moving of their own accord, along with several other people in the room as they moved as a mob towards the noise.

Another bang sounded, though this time it resonated threw the air, throwing everyone off of their feet. Draco grunted as he flew backwards, slamming his head against the stone floor. Stars burst across his vision and he gasped at the impact.

It took a moment for him to regain orientation and he blinked heavily, pushing back up to his feet. At this point everyone was moving forward on adrenaline, stepping blindly over bodies that littered the corridor as they made their way out to the source of the bursts of magic.

The courtyard was smothered in darkness consistently interrupted by the bright streams of light that came from those still dueling. There didn’t seem to be any large battle going on to cause the sort of magical disruption that had swept through the castle, but there was a heavy cloud of magic hanging around the area.

A trickle of blood slipped down his forehead and Draco blinked against the liquid as he caught sight of Potter across the courtyard and knew immediately the source of the disturbance. The black-haired wizard was struggling to keep up with Voldemort’s attack, fighting back as furious as he could against the more skilled enemy. He send hex after hex at the snake-man, yelling out in rage as they fought.

Voldemort was holding his own but only just. While he was more skilled, he lacked the overall wrath that Potter fought with, stemming from years of living in terror and pain. The Dark Lord was gritting his teeth as he flourished his wand in Potter’s direction, his feet stumbling over the rubble scattered around the courtyard.

Draco watched in rapture, knowing that Potter’s efforts were in vain as long as the snake still lived. There were still several others dueling around the courtyard, though some had stopped to watch the main duo fighting in the middle, flashes of light illuminating the cobbled stone. This would be the end for Potter if he continued, Draco thought and almost stepped forward to yell at Harry to get out of there.

Suddenly the spell that Voldemort had just thrown in Harry’s direction sputtered out halfway to its target, disappearing with a pop. No one had cast a protective charm to stop it, seeming to have fizzled out without any intervention. Everyone’s eyes including Draco and Harry’s immediately went to Voldemort and found the man staring like he had been stunned off in the distance, his wand held loosely in his hand as a look of pain overtook his features.

Draco took a step forward towards his master as Voldemort stumbled slightly, raising a hand to his chest as if it pained him. The numerous onlookers looked around the courtyard in confusion, not understanding what was happening. Knowing Voldemort was vulnerable in this moment of pause, Draco started to move towards his master, prepared to fend off any attacks from the Order.

A flying streak of silver suddenly appeared above them, chasing the shadows of the courtyard away as it’s bright light made them all squint. The sight of it stopped Draco’s advance towards his master. Recognizing it immediately as a Patronus, confusion filled him as he wondered who the hell would be sending messages this way in the middle of a battle. The silver streak slowed as it got closer to Harry and Draco’s heart stopped as he finally made out the shape.

Hermione’s otter Patronus stopped completely when it reached Harry, its little paws padding the air impatiently. Harry eyes followed the little animal, his eyes widening in surprise and recognition as it delivered its message.

As Hermione’s voice sounded from the silver animal, Draco felt his breath stop in his throat at her message.

“ _The snake is dead, finish him Harry. Finish this_.”

Draco mind whirled into a panic at the message; Voldemort’s falter in the duel had been the result of another of his horcrux’s dying. Dying at the hands of Hermione Granger it appeared. At least she had escaped Greyback’s clutches he thought with some releif, but her message had just delivered her death sentence.

A flair of anger rushed through him; he had made a deal with Voldemort to save her life, he had hurt Order members tonight, effectively dooming him to a future in Azkaban, and she was throwing it all away. She knew what would happen if Voldemort died, and she was making the choice that Draco hadn’t been able to himself.

A look of hard determination settled over Harry’s face as the silvery otter disappeared into wisps of light. He had been waiting for this moment for years, when he could finally face Voldemort as equals. Nothing was keeping the Dark Lord alive now except the old, scarred heart beating in his chest. He had nothing left to protect him from Potter’s pent up wrath.

They were simply two mortals meeting together for the final time. _Only one can live while the other survives_ ; the words of the prophecy that Voldemort had raved about at many occasion echoed through Draco’s mind.

Voldemort seemed to recover from the momentary shock and pain of a piece of his soul dying and raised his terror filled face in Harry’s direction. For most of his life he had always had some form of indefinite protection preventing him from dying. That was all gone now, and the expression that openly showed across the Dark Lord’s face told everyone that this was it, it was pure fear.

Draco cried out in protest as Harry raised his wand, but his voice was lost in the crack of magic that flew from both Harry and Voldemort’s wand. Twin bursts of bright green light burst forward, both wizards aiming to kill.

The streams of light met between the two wizards, exploding with a burst of light as they met. Several onlookers were thrown backwards by the force of the collision of magic. Draco stumbled against the blast before catching his balance and watching with wide eyes as the point of connection between the spells began to slowly creep closer and closer to Voldemort.

The entire courtyard was illuminated with the green light. Sweat from Potter’s brow reflected the light while Voldemort moved to grip his wand with two hands, lips peeling back from his teeth in concentration. Everyone watching was frozen in awe, waiting for the action that would determine their final fates.

Draco’s heart was pounding out of his chest, though he knew he couldn’t move at this point. Everything in him was conflicted; half wanted to cheer in support of Potter, but the other half flashed with fear for Hermione. Despite her choice to kill the snake and encourage Potter to end it, Draco wasn’t so cavalier with her life.

But there was nothing he could do now except wait in limbo with everyone else.

Harry yelled out with a final push of exertion as the connection point of the duel curses reached the tip of Voldemort’s wand. And then it was as if the world stood still.

The moment Harry’s green light touched the wood of its twin wand, a loud crack resounded throughout the courtyard, echoing off the looming walls of the castle. Hundreds watched as Voldemort’s wand flew from his hand into the darkness. Potter stumbled forward as the resistance from his wand disappeared, watching with wide eyes as his spell took effect.

A creeping black started to form at Voldemort’s fingertips and the Dark Lord watched in silent fear as it quickly moved up his arm and throughout his entire body. For the pain he had caused over the decades, his end was too quick. The black wave swept up his neck and over his face, the red eyes flicking up to look at Harry for a single moment more before they too were overcome with black.

Draco couldn’t tear his eyes away as the Dark Lord, the wizard who had terrorized the wizarding world for years, finally died, falling to the floor in a heap of black flesh and robes, never to move again.

Everything was silent in the residual effects of the battle. No one made a noise as Voldemort fell, both sides staring in pure shock as the war they had been fighting, some for the majority of their lives, ended with the death of the darkest wizard to ever live.

Then chaos swept over the castle.

Some of the Order members started to scream with joy as they rushed Harry, pulling the wizard this way and they celebrated their victory. Some stood frozen in their spot, unable to believe that it was finally over. Death Eaters still standing in the courtyard radiated panic as they tried to apparate away, stopped instead by the anti-apparation shields that had been immediately thrown up by the quick thinking of many Aurors in attendance.

Draco watched as the people he had fought with for years were pounced on and restrained by the victors, some of them accepting their fates without protest, while others continued to fight in vain for their lives.

There was only one thought as Draco rushed forward into the mob, he needed to get to Potter, needed to get to Hermione.

He yelled out as two aurors on either side of him came at him in a rush and tried to grab his arms to restrain him. Draco threw them off easily and continued to push through the crowd towards Potter. Several Order members joined in the effort to detain him, mistaking his actions as getting to Harry to finish what Voldemort couldn’t.

It took five of them to hold Draco down, forcing him to the floor as ropes whipped around his body. The pulled his wand free as he cast slicing hexes at the ropes, effectively leaving him defenseless. Draco was almost vibrating in rage and panic as he still tried to move forward, ignoring the pain of the tightening of the ropes around him.

“Stay down!” One of the Aurors yelled at him, the tip of his wand pointing directly into Draco’s face.

Several other Death Eaters were in similar situations around the courtyard, but Draco could barely see or hear any of them over the rushing in his ears. There was still time, he lied to himself.

Ignoring the threat of the wand in his face, Draco wrenched his head around the wizard and caught site of Potter standing amongst his friends and family several yards away.

“POTTER!” Draco screamed out, giving everything he had left to catch his attention.

The Auror holding him snarled and yanked Draco to his feet, attempting to pull him away from the courtyard. As the rest of the Death Eaters were finally restrained, the anti-apparation shields were lifted and the small groups of prisoners and their captors moved towards the apparition point and began to disappear with pops, leaving only victors left in their ramshackled castle.

“POTTER!” Draco yelled out again, trying to throw off the hands that drug him across the cobblestones.

Hermione was the only thing on his mind as he looked frantically over his shoulder, trying to catch Potter’s attention, yelling for the wizard as he went.

It finally worked. Harry caught site of the struggle and began to pushed forward. His brows furrowed in concern at the site of Malfoy being restrained, knowing that Hermione had gone looking for him hours ago. He moved quickly to where the Aurors were still pulling Draco towards the apparition point.

“Wait!” Harry came to a halt in front of them, several order members protesting the interaction after seeing Draco fight with Voldemort during the battle. Had it been up to them he would have been immediately escorted to Azkaban.

“Mr. Potter, this man actively aided the Death Eaters in their efforts tonight. He is a traitor and is being taken to Azkaban for detainment.” The gruff voice of Draco’s captive Auror rang out, clearly annoyed at Harry’s interference.

Harry’s brow tightened in confusion. “Malfoy has been undercover for the Order for months, he’s on our side.” He said sharply, surprisingly coming to Draco’s defense.

“Apparently not, you see Potter he was—”

Draco cut the Auror off quickly, ignoring everyone and everything else as he focused on Harry. “Potter, Hermione’s hurt.”

This caught Harry and everyone else’s attention, eyes snapping to the commotion. Everyone had seen Hermione’s Patronus delivering the message to Harry, knowing her vital role in bringing down Voldemort and his regime.

“You need to get to her. She’s going to die.” Draco pleaded, not even caring that he was practically begging in front of everyone he had ever known. He hated how slow everyone was reacting, every second of hesitation was a second of Hermione’s life ticking away.

“What do you mean die?” Ron spoke up from behind Harry. “She killed the snake and sent the Patronus. You weren’t even with her for that, how do you know what’s going on with her if you’ve been here the entire time?”

Draco didn’t bother looking away from Harry who was still watching him with a wary expression. “Greyback stabbed her when she came looking for me. She was dying until Voldemort linked her life to his and now…”

Harry’s eyes widened. “He’s dead.”

Draco nodded, suddenly feeling very, very tired. There wasn’t time for this.

“Where is she?” Harry asked urgently, understanding immediately the severity of the situation.

“I don’t know. The caves probably. I doubt she had time to make it out after killing the snake.” The grip that the Aurors had on him was the only thing holding Draco back.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Harry nodded and sharply gestured for people to follow him, calling out commands as they began to move towards the apparition point. As he started to move, one of the Aurors reached out a hand to stop him.

“What if he’s lying?” The gruff man asked harshly. “He is a traitor to both sides, Mr. Potter. We can’t trust him.”

A moment of silence fell over the crowd as Harry glared at the Auror before turning his eyes on Draco. There was something in the green depths that made told Draco Harry knew about him and Hermione. “He’s not lying about this.” He said sharply before continuing on.

Fear for Hermione still overwhelmed everything, even the relief at Potter’s actions. Draco struggled briefly against the restraints around him, wanting badly to follow Harry as he disapperated.

“You’re not going anywhere, Malfoy.” The original Auror said with a snarl, obviously angry at being snubbed by boy-wonder. “You’re still a traitor in my book. And we’ll make sure you get exactly what is coming to you.”

Once again Draco was being pulled away from the courtyard by his captors, trying frantically to look over his shoulder were several other Order members had followed Harry and disappeared from the grounds.

He wanted to scream in frustration, needing to get to Hermione, needing to know that she was alright. But there was nothing to be done and even as he fought harder against the hands that gripped him, it wasn’t until he was yanked into darkness did he realize that his fate had finally caught up with him. And even as he knew the Order was rushing to Hermione's aid and knew it was too late, when Azkaban came into view before him, Draco Malfoy accepted that fate. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> VOLDY IS DEAD! Is Hermione?
> 
> I have no idea why, but this chapter was a struggle to write. There was just so much going on that I couldn't keep everything strait. Hopefully its okay, though I'll probably end up going back at some point in the future and reworking this entire story. Sorry to leave you in suspense about Hermione's fate :D


	41. Chapter 41

Hermione was dead.

It was the first thought that came to Draco’s mind as he was raised up in the depths of the ministry, into the cage that stood at the middle of the courtroom. A cage was fitting, given he’d been treated like an animal over the past week.

He had heard stories about Azkaban from the many escaped convicts who had spent time there. Horrible stories that in his youth had him waking in sweat as he dreamed about the terrors within the walls of the infamous prison. But nothing in the stories had prepared him for the truth of the experience; it much, much worse.

The first week he spent in the prison was one of the worst weeks of his life. He was booked into the prison as a known Death Eater, not given the opportunity to talk to anyone other than the haggard guards that had worked the place for their entire lives and were immune to the pleas of prisoners. Even though he had expected this to be the place he would eventually end up in, nothing he could have done could have prepared him.

The cell he was placed in was isolated, the only sounds were the occasional wails and pleas from other prisoners. At first it felt claustrophobic, but soon Draco didn’t even notice the pressing walls. It was cold and damp, the hard stone walls offering no reprieve from the constant chill.

For the entirety of the week he spent waiting for news of a trial, he had held out hope that Potter had reached Hermione in time. In the darkest times where dementors were plaguing the halls, taking every ounce of happiness from his soul, he had held onto the small glimmer of hope that she had survived. Even if he had to spend the rest of his life in this cell, it would be worth it if she was alive.

But that hope, that sustaining force of light, disappeared with a pop the moment he saw the empty space next to Harry and Ron who sat together on one of the crowded courtroom benches. He knew that if she was alive, she would have been there right alongside them. She would have stood up and fought for his freedom.

But she wasn’t there.

He briefly met Potter’s eyes before the head Wizengamot began to speak, finding the chosen one’s expression grim without betraying any emotion. But it was the turmoil in Weasley’s eyes that confirmed Draco’s fears. The red-head was never good at hiding his expressions, and the obvious grief and red tinged eyes told Draco everything he had been wondering over the past week.

Draco had never believed in the concept of hearts breaking. In fact he considered it a fallacy that whiny school children experienced when their crush ended up with someone else. It was something to be laughed about, made fun of. But the moment he realized that Hermione was gone, that he would never see her infectious smile again, or feel her warmth against him, Draco swore that his heart cracked in two.

The pain was like nothing he had ever experienced, and for a moment Draco thought how irrational it was that he was feeling like this. They hadn’t even been a real couple; had never gone on an actual date or had even a day of normalcy to spend solely with each other. But that wasn’t what defined a relationship.

Hermione had been the turning point at many different points in his life. She had been the reason he began to question his father’s teaching of blood supremacy in school, the reason he pushed himself so hard to achieve good marks at Hogwarts and beyond, and the reason he had chosen to work with the Order as opposed to continuing as a puppet for the Dark Lord.

He had loved her.

It was a surprise to admit it to himself, and even more of a hit to realize it fully as he stared at the empty space besides her two best friends. He loved her, and she was gone.

The trial itself was a mess. The Wizengamot was mostly made up of the older generation of wizards; those who were intent on making an example of every Death Eater who passed through their halls. Draco was no exception.

“We call the court to Order, for the trial of Draco Lucius Malfoy, accused Death Eater and known follower of he-who-must-not-be-named.” Draco didn’t recognize the wizard that spoke at the podium, but found it slightly amusing through the numbing grief that even though Voldemort was dead, they still couldn’t say his name.

He barely paid attention to the majority of the proceedings, not finding it necessary to listen to the many instances of his actions, knowing full well what the conviction would be. There was no hope for him. He had one last chance to prove his loyalties at the final battle, and he had chosen Hermione.

There wouldn’t be an opportunity allowed for him to speak. None of the other convicted Death Eaters that had cycled through the Ministry over the past week had been given the opportunity to defend themselves, to attempt to account for their actions. There was nothing defensible about their service to the Dark Lord and too many people had claimed being under the imperious curse during the last time Voldemort had rose to power that the Ministry wasn’t about to allow any mistrials. Not even Draco’s efforts with the Order would save him now.

The list of accusations was read, and Draco zoned them out, his eyes focusing on the bars all around him. It was over two hours of condemnations before the call for any witnesses went out.

Harry Potter standing up for his childhood bully was a shock to everyone in the room, even to Draco who came out of his stupor at the gasps that sounded around the chamber. Knowing it wouldn’t make a difference, he watched with indifferent interest as Potter stood from his seat next to Weasley and walked to the witness stand at the front of the room facing the Wizengamot.

“Mr. Potter,” The leader began with a disdainful look in his eye as he peered over the edge of the podium at the man who had saved the world. “It is the court’s understanding that you would like to speak in defense of the accused.”

“Yes, I would.” Harry’s voice was firm. He knew very well the intentions of this court, had stood in front of them himself and found them to be a merciless bunch. It was the least he could do for Draco… and Hermione, though he doubted it would make much of a difference.

The leader inclined his head after a moments hesitation, inviting Harry to begin.

“I am here to speak on behalf of Draco Malfoy.” Harry began formally, letting his stern green eyes sweep over the Wizengamot. “While it is true that Malfoy has been a Death Eater since he was sixteen, I believe that the court must take into consideration his upbringing. He was raised to be a Death Eater, to think that muggle-borns are lesser—”

The man at the podium held up a hand to cut Harry off. “The court is well aware of Mr. Malfoy’s past, Mr. Potter. However it is our belief that while that excuse may have worked for a sixteen-year-old, Mr. Malfoy is no longer a child and should be held accountable for his actions as an adult.”

Wizengamot: one, Potter: zero, Draco thought vaguely, wishing that this could all be over with so he could return to his cell, out of the eyes of all of these people who were only here to judge him.

“Yes, Malfoy did continued to serve Voldemort, but despite his position, or perhaps because of his position in Voldemort’s ranks, he also willingly chose to assist the Order over the past seven months. He offered his help and home to allow Hermione Granger to go undercover with him into Voldemort’s ranks. A choice that resulted in Hermione’s ability to destroy Voldemort’s final horcrux, making it possible for me to kill Voldemort.” Draco hated the way Harry’s voice caught slightly as he said Hermione’s name and tried furiously to block out the wave of emotion even the mention of her name brought forth within him.

“Without his assistance and choice to betray Voldemort, we would not be standing here now. We would still be fighting the war, and very likely losing.” Harry said with finality.

A few whispers sounded from the packed crowd, but Draco kept his eyes down, burying every emotion deep within himself as he had during his time in servitude to Voldemort. He didn’t care to hear the whispers wishing him dead, already wishing that himself.

After a few minutes of hushed discussion, which only served to bring forth loud objections from the spectators, the gavel banged loudly to call the court to order.

“Mr. Malfoy’s actions do not excuse his previous work.” The leader shouted over the noise in the room, his face red with annoyance and anger.

Harry opened his mouth as if he wanted to speak but was quickly cut off.

“Mr. Malfoy has been responsible for the torture, destruction and loss of many witches and wizards’ lives.” The older man said loudly, unable to disguise his anger. “Despite your assumption that he somehow changed his ways over the past several months, he still spent years working to destroy the very cause that you fought against Mr. Potter.”

Harry opened his mouth again, but the man carried on. “And if he was so influential, then should not someone who worked directly with him be speaking on his behalf? Where is Ms. Granger?” The acidity in the man’s voice stung Draco’s ears. The meaning of his tone evident; it was Draco’s fault that Hermione was dead. It seemed that his days of hurting people hadn’t ended with meeting her again.

Harry blinked against the inquisition, obviously holding back emotion of his own. Even still, he tried to speak.

Instead, the head Wizengamot held up his hand to silence the room. “I believe we have heard enough, Mr. Potter. Despite your good intentions to defend this abomination, we will hear no more. To be frank, I find it quite hard to believe that you could stand here and defend the man responsible for the death of your comrades and friends.”

Draco winced again, drawing more and more into himself with each word.

Anger tinged Harry’s voice as he finally got a word in. “ _Voldemort_ is responsible for any casualty of this war.” He said loudly as he glared at the older man.

The Wizengamot raised a brow at Harry’s tone. “I will hear no more. We have reached our decision.” He looked around him to the other members of the court and was met with several nods. Draco knew what the verdict would be, as did Harry apparently as the wizard’s shoulders fell in defeat.

“All those in favor of acquitting Draco Malfoy of all charges?” The head Wizengamot called out.

Draco watched without emotion as only three hands were raised among the crowd.

“All in favor of the recommended sentencing of life in Azkaban?”

The final block of resignation fell into place within Draco as the rest of the hands shot into the air, several members not bothering to hide their distaste of him. Not that he blamed them, he hated himself too.

The head Wizengamot nodded and banged the gavel loudly on the podium as his icy blue eyes finally fell on Draco. “It is decided. Draco Lucius Malfoy, you will live out the rest of your miserable days in Azkaban Prison.”

_Day 1_

Draco was led back to his cell without any hesitation, as if the rest of the wizarding community couldn’t wait to be rid of him. As the bars slid into place behind him, Draco found he couldn’t move as he stared at the dark stone walls, feeling numb.

She was gone. There was no longer that slight glimmer of light that made him want to continue on. It was as if all the stars in the world had gone dark, leaving behind only an infinite darkness, swallowing him whole.

Silently, he sat down on the wooden cot that they called a bed. Without consciously pulling them forward, images of his time with Hermione began to flash through his mind; from the moment he had first seen her at Hogwarts, to the last time he had said goodbye with her lying in a pool of her own blood on the floor of his home. With each new memory, a wall of his occlusion broke down until there was nothing left but pure, raw emotion.

The intensity was like nothing he had ever experienced, and Draco felt himself begin to shake, sobs tearing from his throat as tears streamed down his face. As his world crashed around him, Draco cried. He cried for everything he had lost, and he cried for Hermione. Not only had he lost her, but the world had lost her. And that was something too devastating to live with.

_Day 32_

Draco spent his days in agony, trying in vain to hide the memories of Hermione away from the attack of the dementors. Sometimes when they would come to his cell in search of happiness, he thought about just giving in and letting them take the memories away. But if he was to serve his life in this hell, he wanted to remember her, remember that even for the shortest time he had been loved.

He wasn’t allowed visitors, though the guards told him that Potter had tried to use his influence to overcome the ruling. It seemed that the chosen one didn’t hold the influence that he thought he did. But Draco preferred it this way. He could barely handle the internal guilt of being responsible for Hermione’s death, he didn’t need Potter’s guilt as well.

_Day 78_

Sometimes Draco wondered if he was going insane. It wasn’t unheard of for prisoners of Azkaban; people went insane every day. Draco heard many of them, screaming out for people in the night, or wailing in terror as they were periodically visited by dementors.

There were times when he found himself talking to Hermione, having conversations with her that he wished he could have had in real life. He talked about everything he had dreamed of for his future, for their future together. It was almost like building an alternate reality in his mind, one that immediately went behind walls as soon as the dementors showed up.

The illusion of her that he created would never answer him in his ramblings, only sit on the edge of his bed and smile softy while he spoke. The fake images almost hurt more knowing that the elaborate plans he was sharing with her would never come true. She was gone.

He would never get the opportunity to take her to Rome, or to dance with her underneath the stars in Venice. He imagined what their wedding would have looked like, how she would have looked in soft white, curls spilling down her back. He imagined their children, small wild-haired toddlers giggling as they ran across the grass at their home.

But she was gone, and in the end, they were simply delusions. Maybe he was going insane.

D _ay 129_

It didn’t take long for the days to all blur together. Without a window, Draco had no sense of time. It could have been weeks or years at this point, though it didn’t actually matter. The boredom was deadening and while at first Draco let himself succumb to it, he had reached his breaking point after two months of imprisonment.

He tried exercising every day, or at least as much as his tiny cell allowed. He had heard from previous prisoners the different methods to keep your mind and body sharp, and while he didn’t care too much about the effects, it did help to pass the time.

Nothing from the outside world reached him. Even when he tried to ask the guards the frequently walked by his cell what was going on, he was ignored. Never in his life had he felt more invisible, more alone.

_Day 184_

At the beginning, the images of Hermione had been somewhat comforting; a way to release all of the dreams he had had for the future. But as soon as every scenario had been played out, the delusions became haunting.

There were days when Draco would sit across the cell, staring at the illusion of Hermione sitting casually on his bed. She still hadn’t said a word to him, simply stared back at him with that sweet, soft smile he loved so much.

He itched to touch her, remembering the feel of her soft skin under his fingertips. But every time he tried, his hand simply slid through the air without resistance, and she would smile sadly at him, before disappearing completely.

And not for the first time, he would wish for death.

_Day 201_

Seven months.

It had been seven months since he had been dragged here, sentenced to a life of isolation. One of the guards had tripped up while taunting him, letting slip that precious information of time.

But it didn’t mean anything at this point to Draco. Seven months or seven years, it was only a blip on the nightmare life he was sentenced to live.

He had tried several times to goad the dementors into taking their torture further, to finally break and take his entire soul. But the ministry kept a strict hold on the demon’s actions, not allowing their casual visits to the prisoners any relief that came with death.

Without any chance of escape, Draco spent his days in silence. It had been weeks since Hermione had visited him, or perhaps he had kept her away as he tried to block out every emotion he ever had. For now he spent his time staring at the brick wall, mindlessly trying to count the enumerable cracks that littered the surface. And he waited patiently for death.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are doing well. Not going to say anything about the story here as I'm not giving any hints for what is to come.   
> Stay tuned!


	42. Chapter 42

When Harry Potter showed up at the door of his cell, the effort to draw so far into himself had been so successful that Draco barely registered him. For the past three days, he had been spending almost every waking moment sitting on the cold floor, trying in vain to make Hermione appear before him. She hadn’t appeared for him in what felt like a lifetime. Even his memories of her were locked so deeply inside that he had difficulty pulling them to the surface.

Anyone who saw him now after eight months of imprisonment would only see a shell of the powerful man he used to be. Which is exactly what Harry thought as he peered through the heavy metal bars at the once fearsome ex-Death Eater. Sirius had talked briefly about his time in Azkaban; how people went insane after only a matter of weeks. It had been eight months for Draco, and as Harry watched the pale man glared at the wall just above his bed, he wondered just what was left of the wizard’s mind.

As the door clanked open, Draco turned his head towards the unfamiliar sound and looked at Harry with apparent annoyance. The grey eyes almost seemed to see through Harry for a moment, no sign of emotion passing over the pale face. It was almost as if he was irritated for being interrupted doing… whatever he had been doing.

Glancing briefly at the guard that stood in the hall with him, Harry took a deep breath before stepping into the tiny cell.

“Malfoy.” He said carefully, bracing himself for any panicked attack if the man had truly lost his mind. Physically Draco looked fine, if not more fit than he had when he was first locked up to Harry’s surprise. But mentally, his condition remained to be seen.

After a brief moment, Draco’s eyes seemed to focus and truly see Harry standing before him. A flicker of confusion passed over his face before his features once again went impassive. Blocking out any curiosity or happiness at being permitted a visitor, Draco turned his head back towards the bed and tried once again to make Hermione appear.

“Potter.” He said offhandedly, barely recognizing the sound of his own voice after months of silence. Without Hermione there, Draco hadn’t anyone to talk to; only the screams of his block mates to keep him company. 

Following the direction of the grey eyes, Harry glanced to the empty space over the bed and tried to see what was so fascinating in the space before turning back to Draco and clearing his throat.

Draco sighed as Hermione failed to appear in front of him, and closed his eyes briefly in disappointment as he raked a hand through his messy, dirty hair.

“Potter if you wouldn’t mind getting on with it, I’m a little busy.” Draco said, flicking his sharp eyes up to the black-haired wizard.

At Draco’s tone, Harry’s brows drew together in confusion as he once again took in Draco’s position on the dirty floor. Busy? Doing what, becoming part of the wall?

“You’re being released, Malfoy.” Harry said, finding that it was just better to get to the point. It had been a long eight months and he was tired of fighting. The ruling of the Wizengamot was usually unbreakable, unable to be reversed. But Harry had spent many waking hours attempting to do just so, and he was both tired and elated to finally be here.

While he wasn’t sure what sort of reaction he should have expected from Draco at the news of his release, Harry certainly had expected _some_ sort of reaction. Instead Draco simply looked up at him for a few seconds, his grey eyes contemplating something internally before they turned away again. Harry’s confusion only grew. Ever since receiving the news of Draco’s immediate release an hour ago, Harry felt that he himself had been more excited than Draco currently was.

“Malfoy did you hear me?” Harry asked, taking another step into the room and raising his voice. “You’re being released. You’re free.”

“Yeah I heard you Potter. I’m actually good here though, thanks.” Draco said in a nonchalant voice, clasping his hands over his knees in a very aristocratic manor that clashed with his current living environment.

Harry’s brows shot up in shock. This was the opposite of how he had seen this scene going.

“Now if you don’t mind,” Draco crossed his outstretched legs and leaned his head back against the wall as he closed his eyes, “I’d like to be left alone.”

Suddenly feeling very angry, Harry crossed the room and sat down on the bed, right in Draco’s line of sight. The blond opened his eyes at the noise of the bed squeaking, obviously annoyed, but Harry ignored it. He hadn’t spent the past several months fighting for Malfoy only to have his efforts rewarded with this.

The green eyes were hard as they held the grey. “You’re free, Malfoy. Whether you like it or not, though I don’t bloody understand why you don’t. Either way they’ll kick you out, this isn’t a hotel.”

Draco quirked a brow and smirked at the wizard, feeling sarcasm break through the walls holding every other emotion back. “Think they’ll let me stay if I pay rent?”

Harry only shook his head and stared across the cell in exasperation. “What the actual hell is wrong with you? Do you want to die here Malfoy? You could have mentioned it earlier, I’m sure they could have used the cell.”

Draco scoffed and held up his hands, defeated. “Tried that. No mercy these lads.”

The guard outside Draco’s door cleared his throat and Draco shot him an icy glare. It was the most interaction he had received from the guards in over a month, not that it was at all consistent before then.

“I’m here for a reason, Potter.” He said turning his attention back to the man on his bed. “I haven’t forgotten. Besides,” a wave of sadness fell over his and he blinked down at his hands resting in his lap trying to push everything back, “there’s nothing for me out there.”

Harry’s voice raised in volume as he shot up off the bed in anger. “How can you say that? You have your life! You are still alive despite your best efforts, despite people trying to kill you for years. Which is more than I can say about a lot of people.”

The words cut deeper than Draco had expected, opening up all of his old wounds and tearing away scars that he had spent months constructing. Finally feeling the return of some of his long locked away emotions, Draco looked angrily up at Harry.

“Thanks for the reminder Potter. Every bloody day has been a nightmare, but have you ever considered that maybe I deserve to be here. You can sit there all high and mighty knowing that the world worships you for your sacrifices, but don’t you dare act as though I didn’t lose her too.”

A flicker of something Draco couldn’t read passed over Harry’s eyes, his anger clouding every sense he had. How dare boy-wonder burst into his cell and offer something that no longer meant anything. How dare he offer freedom when there was no escape from the torment that raged in his mind. At least here he could escape his thoughts, fall into the silence until he no longer recognized his own voice.

“Who did you lose?” Harry asked, his voice softer than it had been.

Of course he was going to make him say it, Draco thought with an expression of disdain, dig it in a bit more. It was punishment enough to know his own role in Hermione’s death, but to now be forced to talk about it with her best friend, the man she had considered her brother, was cruel.

“Is this some sort of joke?” Draco asked, surprised at the level of venom in his voice. He hadn’t felt this much emotion in months, needing to clench his hands into fists to keep them from shaking in anger.

Harry didn’t let up though, leaning forward as he held Draco’s eyes. “Who did you lose Malfoy?” He repeated more sternly this time.

Draco gritted his teeth and pushed up to his feet, feeling the need to let out some of the pent-up energy that accompanied the rage building within him. “I think you should go.” He said, glaring at Harry. “If I’m truly free then I’ll find my own way to the door. Thanks for the update. I won’t keep you any longer.”

Harry stood as well and reached out a hand as Draco brushed past him towards the corner of the room, gripping the man’s upper arm to hold him in place. His expression was intense, as if a burst of energy had rushed through him as it had Draco. The blond wizard bared his teeth at Harry’s hand before steeling his face and looking up at the man.

In the tone he used to use when speaking to lower-level Death Eaters when they annoyed him, Draco glared at Potter. “Let go of me, you—”

“Who did you bloody lose??” Harry interrupted with a shout.

The tight control Draco had barely held onto broke and rage overcame him, yelling as he shoved Harry away from him, sending the man flying backwards onto the bed. The guard outside took a step forward but Draco ignored him as he leered over Potter, flexing every muscle in his body as he glared. He would kill the man for this, to torture him this way.

“You know very well who I lost Potter.” Draco spat in fury. “And you know very well what she meant to me. Hermione was my responsibility and she’s dead because of me. I would rather sit here and rot than go out there and have to spend a single day in a world that she gave everything for.”

Harry’s face fell and he stared back at Draco, obviously shocked at his outburst and revelation of his words. “Hermione?” He said after a few more seconds of gaping, pushing himself up to fully sit on the bed. “You think Hermione’s dead?”

Draco sharply raised a hand to cut him off. “Don’t stoop this low just to get me out of here. I’ll leave on my own accord if that’s what it takes for you to stop.”

Harry’s shock faded away and he continued up, so he was standing, all the anger gone replaced by the same look of pity that had been present when he had first come to Draco’s cell. “Hermione’s not dead, Malfoy.”

Draco shook his head and resisted the urge to cover his ears. He wouldn’t listen to this. “I’ve never thought of you as cruel, Potter. Perhaps I was mistaken.” The aristocratic tone of his voice was returning, with the purpose of showing Potter his place.

“What?” Harry said in confusion, watching the man in front of him struggle. “Draco, Hermione _is_ alive. Why would I lie about something like this? Have you thought she was dead this entire time?”

A crack started to form in the strong walls holding the memories of Hermione safely at bay. He refused to let himself even entertain the notion that she was alive. Accepting that he would never see her again, playing out every possible future with her in his head knowing that they were all lies, was the hardest thing he had ever done. And for Harry to come here and use her as leverage, was not something Draco was going to allow.

“Hermione Granger died the day Voldemort did.” Draco said, steeling every part of his being. He had to grit his teeth to avoid lashing out at Potter, willing his emotions to retreat to their rightful place deep inside him.

Harry started to shake his head, reaching out to grip Draco’s shoulder with tight fingers. “No, Hermione _almost_ died that day.”

Maybe he was hoping that if he repeated it enough, Draco would start to believe it. It wasn’t working.

“Hermione’s life was linked to Voldemort’s,” Draco insisted, shrugging off the foreign touch of Harry’s hand on his shoulder. “And Voldemort died.”

The black-haired wizard let out an impatient noise and glanced around the room trying to think of another way to get through to Draco. “Yes, Voldemort died, and yes, Hermione was linked to him. And technically yes, she did die for a few minutes. But we got to her in time; Blaise was able to heal her.”

Then again, maybe the repetition was working, Draco thought with a spark of confusion as the words finally began to take root in his mind, the tiniest glimmer of hope breaking unwanted through the surface. He knew how dangerous it was to let down the walls he had spent months building up, but part of him ached for what Harry was saying to be true. Maybe he could pretend, just for a moment. 

The fight against emotions must have shown on Draco’s face as Harry started to smile slightly. Once again, he clapped a hand on Draco’s shoulder and forced the grey eyes to meet his.

“Hermione is as alive as she has ever been.” Draco inhaled sharply at the words, the small ray of hope growing exponentially.

He opened and closed his mouth, nothing coming out and Harry’s smile grew wider, turning slightly mischievous. 

“Do you really think there is anyone else out there who would have fought this hard to get your sorry ass out of here?”

Draco still didn’t say anything, simply blinking as his hands started to shake again. Swallowing hard against the tightness in his throat. “She’s alive?” The waver in his voice would have been embarrassing in his youth, but now he barely noticed, only caring about the answer.

Harry nodded, understanding flooding his features. “Yes. I don’t think anyone can take down Hermione, she’s a force of her own.”

Draco couldn’t stop the grin that started to form at these words, all of the memories of the furious whirlwind that was Hermione Granger bursting to the surface like a volcano erupting. There was Hermione as she was in school, Hermione fighting on the battle fields, Hermione in the sparkling green dress at Christmas, Hermione curling up against his body in the four-poster bed.

The memories rushed forward with such a force that Draco had to physically take a step back to steady himself as he thought about the witch who was apparently still alive, despite everything Draco had believed over the past eight months.

The emotion was overwhelming, and he had to blink at the film of moisture that blurred his vision. This was more than his wildest dream, more than he could have ever hoped for.

“Where is she? If she survived then why wasn’t she at the trial?” He croaked out, pulling back from Harry as he rubbed at his stinging eyes. If Potter was telling the truth then he needed to see her, needed to see a version of Hermione that wasn’t an illusion. Needed to touch her to convince himself that she wasn’t just another haunting dream.

Harry watched Draco with a mixture of concern and empathy. He never would have imagined that the blond wizard would have gone the past eight months grieving Hermione. He thought that prisoners received some news from the outside, and Hermione’s petition for a retrial for Draco had been splashed across the paper’s headlines for months now.

“She wasn’t at the trial because she wasn’t conscious.” Harry said simply, feeling it was best to take the direct approach with his story.

The overwhelming emotion on Draco’s face switched easily to one of concern. The blond brows furrowed, “What do you mean? You just said that she was fine.”

“And she is. Now.” Harry interjected quickly. “But she wasn’t at first. You know she was hurt, badly.” Draco nodded, the image of Greyback stabbing Hermione flicking across his memory. For the first time in eight months Draco wondered if he had been sharing a prison with the werewolf and gritted his teeth against the rage that usually accompanied thoughts of the vile creature.

“With her injuries and the combination of whatever curse Voldemort used and the dark magic guarding the horcrux, Blaise thinks her body shut down to protect her.” Harry’s brows furrowed as he remembered the weeks of fear for his best friend. “Physically she healed, but mentally… she was in coma of sorts for over a month.”

Draco’s brows raised in surprise and once again he felt guilty. As if she hadn’t gone through enough. 

“And then one day she just woke up,” Harry continued, replaying the memories in his mind as he relayed them. “Since then she’s been fighting for your release. The Wizengamot could hardly refuse her once she threatened to destroy all the progress they had made on the new hospital. Not to mention that your so called betrayal at Hogwarts was part of the deal to keep her alive.”

All of the information wrapped itself through Draco’s mind, each new revelation bringing Hermione closer and closer to him. After months of not being able to see her, either in memory of illusion, Draco was hit with the overwhelming need to get to her. 

“Where is she? I need to see her.” He said with urgency as he stepped past Harry and started to walk briskly down the hall. The leers and pleadings from the prisoners in the cells lining the hall were ignored as Draco walked by. Surprised by Draco’s sudden departure, Harry raced after him, jogging slightly to keep up with the pace Draco’s long legs set.

“Probably at the hospital. I came straight here when they sent your release notice, didn’t know how likely they were to change their mind. I didn’t have time to tell her, though she’ll likely kill me for that.” Harry said as he caught up with Draco.

“Then hand my wand over,” Draco said as they made their way through Azkaban towards the entrance. Even though he had only been this way once before when he was brought to his cell the first time, he knew the way to the entrance as he had imagined walking to freedom many times over the months of incarceration.

Harry hesitated and cleared his throat, causing Draco to stop walking and turn to him in question.

“Well the thing is…” Harry began hesitantly which only served to annoy Draco.

“My wand, Potter.” Draco said, holding out his hand.

“As a condition of your release the Wizengamot has placed you on magical probation for the next year.” Harry said in a rush, bracing for the burst of anger he expected from Draco.

“Magical probation?” Draco asked, never having heard of such a thing.

Harry nodded. “You’re not allowed a wand, or access to any other magical devices.”

“I’m not allowed to do magic?”

Harry shook his head. He had thought the sentence quite harsh when he first heard it, especially given that Malfoy had never lived without magic his entire life. But he supposed it was better than rotting away in the dingy, tiny cell he had been living in.

There was silence for a minute while Draco considered this. Harry was still waiting for the outburst and so was surprised when the blond simply nodded.

“Fine.” Draco said, finding that the idea of losing magic for a year was the least of his problems. “Then you’ll take me to Hermione.”

The black brows shot up at Draco’s reaction. “Umm, yeah… absolutely.”

Draco nodded sharply before turning and continuing towards the exit, his anticipation growing with each flight of stairs they descended. It wasn’t until he heard the crashing of waves against rocks that the reality of leaving started to dawn on him. It was odd how nervous he felt, like his entire life had been flipped upside-down. And in a way it had.

After months he had accepted his fate in Azkaban and was perfectly fine with it knowing that the only person he wanted on the outside world was dead. But now knowing she was alive, and that he was free to leave… he truly couldn’t have asked for anything more. The feeling was exhilarating.

Once they reached the large stone doors at the front of the prison, Draco wasted no time in pushing through them. The rush of cold, ocean air that hit him was like being struck in the face. It had been so long since he had smelt fresh air, so long since he had seen the sky, or heard anything besides screaming.

It was overwhelming and he took a moment to close his eyes and adjust, turning his face up to the rain that poured down on them. Everything felt like freedom, and he felt a surge of life race through his body.

Harry on the other hand was not enjoying the soaking rain that pounded down on them and he gripped Draco’s arm and raised his voice to be heard over the rushing wind.

“Ready?”

Draco’s eyes opened to meet Harry’s. Was he ready? Ready to see the woman he loved; back from the dead after so many months of mourning. No, he wasn’t ready. But he couldn’t imagine wanting anything more than he wanted this.

Firmly, Draco nodded but raised his brows in question as Harry made no move to go. With the fuss that he had made about the rain, Draco would have though that Potter would be raging to go.

“What?” He asked, still not understanding why Harry just stood there contemplating him instead of going.

After a moment, Harry raised his wand and pointed it at Malfoy, muttering under his breath. Immediately Draco felt the magic rush over his entire body and through the dingy clothes he had be rotating through over the past eight months. Looking down, Draco found that, while still ratty, the clothes were now clean. He raised his hands and found that his skin was also clean, and his mouth tasted of mind.

He looked up at Harry’s smug face just as the other man stepped forward to grip Draco’s arm tightly.

“I know Ginny would never forgive me if I showed up looking like you did after eight months.” He said nonchalantly, not allowing Draco time for a retort before they were both being dragged into darkness.

As they landed, Draco stumbled, bending at the waist as he took deep breaths to quell the sudden rise of nausea. The sudden use of magic after so many months without was staggering and he squeezed his eyes shut and let out a shuddering breath.

After another minute, Harry stepped up beside him, his dark wet shoes visible on the stone street next to Draco.

“Alright then?” Harry asked, unable to keep the hint of humor from his voice.

“Fuck off.” Draco said with a shuddered breath, closing his eyes again as his stomach shifted.

“Touchy.” Harry snorted. “Not sure this is the impression you want Hermione to have after eight months though.”

At the reminder of who they were here to see, Draco’s eyes snapped open and he straited up, the nausea immediately disappearing as the rest of his body began to hum in anticipation.

Looking around, he found he didn’t recognize anything about their location. They seemed to be standing on the sidewalk of a busy muggle street, which immediately made Draco nervous considering they had just popped out of thin air in the midst of muggles. But on further inspection, no one seemed to have noticed their appearance.

Harry noticed Draco’s confusion. “It’s the new location for St. Mungos.” He said in explanation. “The old spot was too tainted with dark magic that they had to rebuild here.” He gestured in front of him towards an empty lot. There was nothing there other than a few crumbling brick walls and beams that scattered the ground, yellow tape around a chain-like fenced warned of falling debris.

Thinking it was another joke, Draco looked in the pointed direction in confusion before turning Harry with raised brows, expecting some sort of ‘gotcha’ moment that he was certainly not in the mood for.

Harry met his eyes and laughed slightly, shaking his head as he took a step forward, and disappeared into nothingness. 

Draco’s brows shot up even higher at the sudden disappearance before realizing there must be some sort of illusion charm protecting the hospital from the muggle world. Without any hesitation, Draco followed Harry and stepped through the shield, enjoying the caress of magic that swept over him as he did so. Now that it wasn’t so shocking, the feel of being reunited with magic was comforting.

Immediately the scene shifted when he stepped through, the silence and calm disappearing immediately into a sort of controlled chaos. Draco’s eyes widened in surprise as the sight of witches and wizards scurrying back and forth in front of the beginnings of a construction site. Some of them wore the signature healer and nurse outfits that Draco recognized from St. Mungos, while others were obviously construction crew as they levitated building materials into place.

It would be a massive hospital, Draco noted immediately, as his eyes followed the scaffolding upwards towards what was likely the tenth floor. But then the people caught his eye again and he felt his heart begin to pound in anticipation. There was still a small part of him that believed this was all a dream, that in reality he was back in his bed in the small cell. Even if it was a dream, Draco thought briefly as he continued to look through over people, it was the best dream he had ever had.

Harry too was scanning the crowd in search of his best friend, and after a minute, his face split into a grin as he found his target.

“Hermione!” He called out, raising his hand to wave.

Draco froze at her name and whipped his head around to follow the direction of Potter’s gesture. For a moment he didn’t see her, then his heart stopped as he caught sight of the familiar brown curls, breathe halting in his lungs.

She was standing across the site from them under one of the open-air tents that seemed to be serving as a makeshift clinic, talking with a man in a suit as she gestured towards the patients in the tent and then towards the partially constructed building. Her hair was longer now, half of it clipped up though several curls had escaped around her face. She was wearing a set of dark grey scrubs, looking every bit the healer that she was. She smiled slightly at the man and nodded as he gestured at the edges of the building.

She was the most beautiful thing Draco had ever seen and he took an involuntary step forward.

“Hermione!” Harry called out again, obviously not having been heard the first time.

This time it did reach her, and Draco watched as Hermione turned in response, her dark eyes sweeping across the chaotic space in search of who had called for her. Finally, her gaze settled on them, obviously taking in Harry first as her face broke out into an easy smile. But then her eyes moved to Draco besides him and the smile fell away, replaced by a look of shock.

As soon as her eyes met his, Draco’s heart threatened to beat out of his chest. She was really alive. Any last flicker of doubt finally disappeared.

He saw her mouth form his name as she took a hesitant step towards them, then another step before she broke into a run. Draco couldn’t stop the grin that formed across his lips as he watched her race towards him, pushing through the crowd frantically as if she was afraid he would disappear. He moved too, taking long stride in her direction before bracing himself as she reached him and launched herself into his arms.

The solid impact of her body against his had Draco closing his eyes in pure relief. She hadn’t passed through him like she had so many times before in his cell. She was solid and warm, and very much alive.

He gripped her as tight as he could and lifted her off her feet, feeling the strength of her arms wrap around his neck. She was laughing in his ear and saying his name over and over again, which only made Draco smile wider. Never in his life had he felt this happy; it was like he had taken a euphoria potion.

The sound of her laughter faded away momentarily as Draco squeezed his eyes tight together. Intermixed with the happiness was pure, sweet relief. Too many days had been spent on his knees, sobbing for the woman he now held tight in his arms, as real as the clouds hanging in the sky above them. Her voice in his ear almost made Draco weep after the silence of her illusion.

He didn’t care what else had happened, or what else would happen; this was exactly where he wanted to be.

After what felt like a lifetime, Draco reluctantly lowered Hermione to her feet and pulled away to look down at her. Her expression was still one of shock, as if she still couldn’t believe he was here.

He swept his gaze over her face to memorize every feature he thought he would never see again, raising his hand to brushed a curl behind her ear before bringing it back to cup her cheek. It was as if the touch of his hand broke the spell over her as immediately Hermione’s eyes widened, and she inhaled sharply. Her own hand came up to grip his wrist and she swallowed.

“You’re here.” She breathed out, her voice the sweetest thing Draco had ever heard. “How are you here?”

Her eyes flicked over his face before turning to Harry who Draco had forgot was still there. “You were supposed to tell me if you heard anything.” She reprimanded her friend sternly and Draco only smiled wider.

Harry began to defend himself, but Hermione had already moved on, turning back to Draco and staring at him for a moment before a grin broke over her features, mirroring his own.

“You’re here.” She said again with finality before laughing and launching herself at him again, wrapping her arms around his neck as she pressed her lips firmly against his.

Draco stumbled slightly with the force of the impact but then there was nothing else for him except the feel of her lips, of her arms around him and her body pressed against his. Everything that he had thought he lost was here, and his grip tightened as he returned the kiss with fervor. Arms wrapping around her waist as tightly as he could, he held her while their lips and tongues collided.

He could have stayed like this the rest of his life. Nothing had ever been so perfectly wonderful, and he never wanted this moment to end, never wanted to let her go, never wanted to live without her ever again.

The perfect moment was interrupted though by a few whistles from the crowd around them, many who had stopped their work to watch the scene unfold. Harry too cleared his throat uncomfortably as he averted his gaze from his best friend passionately kissing Draco Malfoy. It was one thing to know about their relationship, and another to witness it first-hand.

With a slight laugh, Hermione pulled her lips away from Draco but kept her arms around his neck. The warm chocolate of her eyes all but sparkled with happiness as she smiled at him, unable to contain the joy that surged through her veins.

“Hi.” She said, somewhat breathless from the kiss.

Draco chuckled and claimed her lips again, feeling the curve of her smile against his. Then he pulled away again. “Hi.”

Gently, he set her back down on her feet, hands falling from her waist. “I didn’t think they’d actually agree to let you out.” Hermione said excitedly. She was buzzing with energy, practically dancing with it. “I’ve been petitioning for months, and they told me it would be unlikely that the ruling would be overturned. Even with my testimony they were still hesitant. I thought I would have to overthrow the ministry to get anything done.”

She was rambling with joy and excitement, something that once would have annoyed Draco but now he only found enduring. He could listen to her talk forever.

“I thought you were dead.” He said suddenly, halting her flow of words.

Hermione blinked in surprise and then furrowed her brows in confusion. “Why would you think--?” The brown eyes widened in realization and her expression fell as she stared at him, finally seeing the emotion on his face.

“Oh, Draco.” She said softly, reaching up to cup his face in her palms. “I’m so sorry. I should have realized…”

“How could you have known?” Draco asked, closing his eyes briefly at her touch before opening them again.

“Didn’t the guards tell you?” Hermione asked, brows still furrowed as she tried to make sense of what had happened. “I’ve been sending papers and letters to you as often as I could.”

Another surge hatred for the prison guards bubbled up in Draco and he gritted his teeth. “Prisoner’s aren’t allowed news of the outside world.” He said simply, hands unconsciously tracing the curve of her waist as if his hands were continuously assuring him she was real.

Her mouth opened slightly as she let out a breath. “You haven’t heard anything since your trial?” She asked, obvious concern and anger sweeping over her face.

Draco shook his head and then watched with slight confusion as Hermione’s eyes flicked over to Harry’s, something dark moved in them and Draco followed her gaze to see the slight shake of Harry’s head. Blinking, Hermione looked back to Draco and tried to smile.

“Well we’ll have to catch you up on things.” She said, the smile falling away as whatever she had been thinking of darkened her mood.

Draco looked between her and Potter again. Obviously, there was something he didn’t know, something bad. He was about to ask about it when Hermione kissed him again, raising on her toes to meet his lips.

All thoughts fell away again as he kissed her back, not even caring about the audience they had acquired, or that most of them still likely viewed him as a traitor. Everything he could ever want was here now, and he was never letting go again.

Finally they pulled apart and Hermione reached up to tuck errant curls behind her ears, still smiling. “I’ve got to hand over some patients but then I can go, I’m sure you’ve got some questions.”

Draco nodded and reluctantly let her go, keeping his eyes trained on her as she moved quickly away from them back towards the tent. He vaguely registered Potter coming up beside him, not wanting to take his eyes from Hermione.

“Malfoy,” Harry said hesitantly after a few minutes. “Whatever she tells you, just try to think about her, yeah? She’s not as strong as you think she is.”

Draco blinked at the cryptic request and looked over at the black-haired wizard to find him also watching Hermione who was now flitting between beds in the makeshift hospital. What was that supposed to mean? He wondered and was about to ask but Hermione was coming back towards them, smiling as she took Draco’s hand.

“Done. Though I’ll likely be working a double next week to make up.” She said with a grin as she looked between Draco and Harry, noting the somewhat tense expression that both wore.

“Everything okay?” She asked, concern starting to taint her words.

Immediately Harry shook his head and smiled at his friend, “Perfect. Just ready to get home to Ginny.”

Realization dawned on Draco and he turned to look at the wizard. “She had her baby, didn’t she? You’re a father now?”

He hadn’t known how far along the Weaslette was the last time he had seen her but knew from the size of her belly that she certainly hadn’t lasted eight more months. Harry smiled proudly at the question and nodded.

“James Sirius Potter.” He said, a large smile lighting his face as he thought of his son. “Four months old now. I’m sure you’ll have plenty of opportunities to meet him considering Hermione all but lives in his bedroom.”

Hermione rolled her eyes at Harry. “So sorry for loving my godson to bits.” She said, not feeling sorry at all.

Draco could see the joy in Potter’s eyes and couldn’t help but to feel happy for the man. Without thinking, he reached a hand out. “Congratulations. I’m really happy for you, and Ginny.”

Harry’s eyes widened in momentary surprise before he caught Malfoy’s hand and shook it. “Thanks. That means… a lot.” He said with a nod. “Speaking of which, I really should probably get back to them, Ginny gets a bit worried when I come home late.”

Just before he turned to leave, he paused. “Will you be okay?” He asked, and Draco didn’t miss how the question was directed more to Hermione than to him.

She immediately nodded, stepping forward to kiss Harry’s cheek.

“That’s for my godson. And we’ll be fine. I’ll owl you later if I need you.” She said with a deliberate look at Harry.

The chosen one looked between the pair once more before nodding and turning on his heel, disappearing with a crack.

Finally alone, though not truly given the bustling activity in the area, Draco turned to Hermione and once again saw the tense look on her face as she stared at the spot where Harry had just stood. It made Draco’s defenses rise and he looked at her in concern, which Hermione promptly ignored as she turned to him with a bright smile.

“Want to get out of here?” She asked, her hands taking his.

Putting aside the questions once again, Draco nodded, pulling her to him as she turned on the spot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ignore me, just sitting here unable to keep a grin off my face.  
> I love this chapter. So much. It has been the scene that I've been waiting to write since I first started this thing. Hopefully you all love it, I know it's been a long haul for these two. 
> 
> I really want to write more with this beyond just the typical epilogue. It's always been interesting to me to see how Hermione and Draco would adjust to a post-war world and relationship. I'm just not ready to end this yet :) Let me know if that's something you guys are interested in?


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another trigger warning: PTSD, post-sexual assault. Read with caution. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented on the last chapter. I'm so glad you loved the reunion as much as I do. I'm a sappy romantic at heart so the dramatic reveal/reunion was right up my alley.

In her excitement at Draco’s unexpected release and reappearance in her life, Hermione hadn’t had the opportunity to truly process what was happening. Her heart rate hadn’t lowered since the moment she had seen him across the hospital compound, still not quite convinced this wasn’t just some wonderful dream.

Since waking up in the Burrow’s hospital and finding that over a month had passed since she had killed the snake, during which time Draco had been imprisoned, Hermione had been fighting for his release. Despite having no experience in magical law, she drew on the expertise of many sympathetic ministry workers and spent whatever free time away from the hospital immersed in law books.

His release was even more shocking given that the last hearing she had been present at, the Wizengamot had barely paid any attention to her; Mr. Warnby who lead the procession basically told her to stop wasting their time.

One day she might ask how or why the were finally convinced to change their rulings. But for now she didn’t care, as long as it had worked and Draco was once again free.

Without really thinking, Hermione apparated them home from the hospital site. It wasn’t until she saw the confusion on Draco’s face as he took in their new location upon landing that she realized that her home was not his.

Draco’s brows furrowed as he looked around the unfamiliar room, taking in the light airy feeling living room. It was pleasant and comforting, and very much Hermione. Light wood beams ran along the high ceilings, the weathered appearance of the wood betraying its age. Large dove grey sofas surrounded a white-washed brick fireplace that was flanked by two sets of tall French doors that showcased an impressive view out across the open ocean.

It felt somewhat French in décor, certainly a far cry from the heavy woods and oppressive feel of the Manor. It felt welcoming. It felt safe.

His eyes stared out into the expanse of grey sky that met the deep blue waters at the horizon. “Where are we?” He asked Hermione without turning.

Feeling a bit self-conscious at her rash actions, Hermione glanced around the room. “My home.”

At this Draco did look at her, a questioning look in his eyes. The last he remembered she had her flat in London, and had made no mention during their time together of owning a house on the sea.

“I didn’t feel comfortable being in the city anymore.” She said simply in explanation, leaving his side to scoop up a book that had fallen off the coffee table to the muted oriental rug below. Holding the book as sort of a comforting shield against her chest, she turned to find him still watching her.

“My flat didn’t feel right anymore, and I certainly wasn’t going to move into the Burrow again. I found this place about a month ago and Harry and Ron have been helping me fix it up. It was in terrible shape before; the previous owner was older and just didn’t have the strength to keep it up anymore. But it’s really come along. Still needs some work upstairs but I love it. It’s isolated, just a small village down the coast, and peaceful. It feels like I can finally think here.”

She knew she was rambling. She was nervous, though had no idea why. Having Draco here with her again had been the thing she had wanted most over the past months, but now that he was here, she felt uneasy.

Maybe it was because that despite the intensity of their interactions prior to his arrest, they had all been under the duress of war. There had always been that fear and determination that pulled them together though they came from two different worlds. She supposed there was a small part of her that wondered if the war was what had been keeping them coming back to each other. Perhaps their worlds really were too different.

Draco seemed to sense her nervousness, slight humor showed in his grey eyes as he watched her talk about the house. Not caring all that much about the efforts that went into replacing the roof that she had moved onto, Draco slowly walked to her, her lips falling silent as he approached.

Her brown eyes were wide as they looked up to meet his and she took a deep breath as he reached a hand up to run his thumb over her cheek. The electric feeling she had always felt at his touch was just as strong, if not stronger, as it had been months ago.

“It’s perfect, Granger.” Draco said with a slight smirk.

Hermione smiled slightly and raised a hand to his chest, noting for the first time how worn his clothes were. “You wouldn’t say that if you saw the upstairs.” She grumbled, eyes tracing the path from where her hand rested against him, up his neck to his mouth. Blinking the thoughts of how that mouth felt on her, she shook herself and met his eyes again.

The intensity that he watched her only served to remind her of everything he had gone through.

“You really thought I was dead?” She asked quietly, tightness blooming in her chest at the flash of pain that fell over Draco’s face at her words.

The fingers that had been caressing her cheek danced down her throat as he finally nodded, forehead furrowed against the unpleasant memories that surfaced.

“When you weren’t at the trial,” he watched the path of his fingers as if lost in thought, “I assumed the worst.”

Hermione tilted her head as he took a deep breath in an effort to pull back to himself and he shifted his gaze to her face again. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to dispel the pain, reminding himself that it wasn’t real, she was here and perfectly alive.

“Draco…” Hermione said softly, concerned about the war of emotions she had just watched move across his face. “Are you alright?”

He laughed harshly at this, shaking his head as he met her eyes again. “No. I’m not. This has all been—” he paused and furrowed his brows as if trying to find the right word to describe how he was feeling. “—overwhelming. Less than two hours ago I was sitting in a cell in Azkaban, thinking you were dead, and it was all my fault. And now…”

He gestured around them in explanation.

Hermione bit her lip. “I know it’s a lot.” She said but then raised her brows as he snorted at her words.

Slowly, Hermione let out a breath and took a step forward as she reached up to cup his face between her hands, forcing him to look at her. “I know it’s a lot.” She repeated. “You have every right to feel overwhelmed, angry even. I was so angry when I woke up and Harry told me they had sentenced you without even considering all you’d done for the Order, for me. But your life has just been flipped upside-down, you are allowed to take a moment to adjust.”

He held her eyes for a moment, before he let out a breath and shook his head. Without warning he reached out and pulled her to him, hands burrowing into her hair as he covered her mouth with his. Hermione blinked in surprise but then immediately returned the kiss.

This felt different from any kiss they had shared before. It was hungry and possessive, as if they were both on some level were still trying to convince themselves the other was real and not just a figment of their imagination. The passion with which their lips met over and over again made Hermione’s heart race and she sighed as Draco’s mouth slid from hers to kiss its way along her jaw and down her neck, his hands dropping to roam over her side as he did so.

“I don’t need a moment,” he said between hot kisses along her throat, “I just need this. Need you.”

Hermione nodded, unable to speak as the need for him that had been dormant for so many months returned with a flair. His hot breath against the sensitive skin of her neck made her shiver and she dropped her hands to the hem of his thread-bare shirt, moving back just enough to pull it over his head. Immediately his mouth was on hers again, barely giving her a moment to breathe.

She moaned as he slid his hand down her back to grip at her backside, pulling her hips flush against him, the evidence of his need hard against her abdomen. Hermione ached for him and slid her hands along his bare torso and back.

As if realizing they were still standing in the middle of the living room, Draco pulled away slightly, resting his forehead against hers. “Bedroom?’ He all but growled.

Without bothering to answer, Hermione’s eyes flashed open before her grip on him tightened and she turned on the spot. There was barely time to gather his bearing in their new location before Hermione was pushing him backwards onto what was very likely the most comfortable mattress he had ever felt, though he suspected anything would feel like heaven compared to the hard blankets he had slept on in prison.

He sat up and caught Hermione around the waist as she moved forward to stand between his legs, kissing him once again. Together they removed her shirt and bra, his cock throbbing painfully at the noise she made in her throat when he leaned forward to wrap his lips around the peak of her breast. Her fingers carded into his hair as his lips moved over her skin, his other arm wrapped around her back.

“Ohh..” Hermione breathed out as he pulled at her nipple, knees weakened with the flash of heat that shot between her thighs.

Without preamble, Hermione pushed at Draco’s shoulders, forcing him back on the bed. She held his eyes as she slid her grey scrub pants over her hips and let them drop to the floor. The nerves from earlier returned as Draco watched her with hungry eyes, but she pushed past them as she reached a hand to the drawstring of Draco’s prison pants. He smirked at her with a quirked brow as she yanked at the waistband, stripping him bare.

Taking a step back, Hermione stared down at him lounging across the sage green comforter that adorned her bed, fully aware that his eyes were just as hungrily skimming over her own body. They reached for each other at the same time, Draco pulling Hermione down on top of him as their mouths met.

She didn’t necessarily feel awkward, he had seen her naked plenty of times before, but did feel different now. This wasn’t just quick sex to blow off stress that came with their positions in the war, Hermione wanted more, needed more.

“Draco..” Hermione murmured against his lips, her skin prickling in goosebumps as his hands slid over every inch of skin that he could reach.

Everything changed when his hands moved lower and slid between her legs. Hermione immediately stiffened at the touch, every muscle in her body tensing as her vision blurred for a moment. The already racing pace of her heart increased even more and she suddenly felt faint.

Draco noticed her stiffen against him and stilled his fingers, pulling back from the forgotten kiss with a questioning look.

The expression on Hermione’s face was alarming; her eyes were glassy and her expression was one of fear. Draco froze and quickly looked over his shoulder to follow her line of sight, thinking that there must be someone behind them for her to have such a strong reaction. But there was no one, only the massive windows overlooking that spectacular view.

Hesitantly, he looked at her again and something told him not to touch her.

“Granger?” He asked, concern evident in his tone. When she didn’t answer, he spoke louder, “Hermione!”

At this she startled, taking a deep breath and looking down at him as if she had forgotten he was there. She blinked in confusion before quickly pushing up off him, stumbling a few steps away from the bed as she wrapped her arms protectively around her body.

“I’m sorry…” she stammered, staring at him in confused fear. “ I don’t know what happened, I—”

Draco had pushed himself hesitantly up from the bed, so he was standing. She looked like a frightened dove; nerves wired as her eyes flitted around the room like she was looking for an escape. The confusion was only growing within him, but it was nothing compared to the concern he felt seeing her like this. It was like she was waiting for someone to attack.

“Hermione,” Draco said again, softer this time as to not frighten her. “What’s going on?”

She started shaking her head as if trying to dispel an unpleasant thought, arms wrapping tighter around her still bare chest. A thought occurred to him and Draco looked around before pulling a soft throw blanket from its place on the bed and gently held it out to her. Hermione stared at the blanket for a moment before taking and wrapping it around herself, immediately feeling some of the nerves quiet with the protective layer.

Her heart was still pounding irrationally as Hermione met Draco’s eyes and she let out a small huff of breath. She genuinely didn’t know what was happening. This hadn’t felt like any panic attack she had had before, though as expected, they had been more frequent since the end of the war. It was like she had been electrocuted the moment Draco’s fingers touched her. The response was immediate, pure adrenaline raced through her body, screaming at her to run.

Even as she tried to make sense of what was happening, Draco was watching her with concern, still without clothes himself though it didn’t seem to bother him much. He had never been one for modesty.

“Umm…” Hermione took a deep breath, clutching the blanket tighter. “I’m sorry. I…” She trailed off and shook her head again. There weren’t any words to describe how she was feeling, and she met Draco’s eyes with an almost pleading expression.

“Do you want me to get Potter?” Draco asked calmly, remembering the other wizard’s warning about listening to her and the odd looks between the two before they had departed the hospital complex. He wasn’t sure what to make of Hermione’s sudden shift in behavior but could see how frightened she was. Something beyond what he knew had happened to her, and that thought scared him.

Hermione shook her head quickly, running a shaky hand through her messy curls. “No.” She said firmly. “I just need a moment.”

Her eyes flitted around the room once again before her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry, I think I just need some fresh air.” Her own confusion at the bizarre reaction she had had towards him was frustrating, tears pricking her eyes as she willed her body to calm down.

“Don’t apologize.” Draco said, his expression still one of concern. This certainly wasn’t how he expected their reunion to go, then again, he had never anticipated a reunion in the first place. But her fear had him on edge, unsure what to do in the moment. The only breakdowns he had dealt with in the past several months were his own and he hadn’t exactly dealt with them in a healthy manor.

“Look,” He snatched up his clothes and held them to his chest. “I’ll leave you alone and go and try to make some tea.”

Hermione let out a half-hearted laugh at this, hating the slight tinge of panic that crept in. “Have you ever made tea?”

The corner of his mouth twitched though his brows were still furrowed as he looked at her. “No. But I suppose it’s time I learn given that I’ll be without magic for a year.”

Having not heard the terms of his release, Hermione gave him a questioning look which he waved away. There would be time for that later, right now she needed space, though she was much too polite to ask him for it.

He tried to smile reassuringly at her but found that she was once again distracted by whatever thoughts had filled her mind. Just as he passed him towards what he assumed was the door to the room, Hermione spoke.

“Wait,” her hand reached out slightly but drew back before she could touch him. Draco turned to her expectantly as she took a deep breath distractedly. “There are some extra clothes in the guest room down the hall. They’re Harry’s but you can use them.”

Very aware of the tattered state of the material he had arrived in, Draco nodded gratefully before retreating from the room, looking over his shoulder one final time to find Hermione still frozen in the middle of the room.

***

After dressing in a loose pair of lounge pants and a dark blue long-sleeved shirt that was a touch too small, but would work until he went to the Manor for his own clothing, Draco found his way through the quiet house to the kitchen. It took him several minutes to even locate the tea in the many light wood cabinets and he tried to follow the instructions on the back, realizing that he had absolutely no idea how Hermione liked her tea.

At some point during his efforts, he thought he heard a door open and close. Moving to look out the window above the sink that faced the ocean, he saw Hermione’s small figure walking purposefully towards the edge of the cliff, fully dressed with the blanket from her bed still wrapped around her.

For a brief moment, Draco considered following her, but something in him told him to give her a moment for herself.

The events of the day had been as much of a shock for her as it was for him. Their sudden appearance back into each other’s lives was monumental, and he inwardly cursed himself for moving so quickly back into her bed after so much had changed in their lives. He had just assumed that she had been waiting for him when he saw her at the hospital compound. Perhaps she was seeing someone else and her reaction earlier was from guilt?

Furrowing his brows at the thought, Draco poured the now boiling water from the kettle on the electric stove over the loose tea leaves in the mugs he had found.

***

The water was almost cold by the time he decided to go looking for her. It was getting darker outside and he could no longer see her anywhere along the edge of the cliff outside. What if something had happened? Maybe she had fallen.

The concern for her safety propelled his actions and he left the tea on the counter before making his way out of one of the glass doors in the living room. The soft crash of waves rose from the base of the cliff below, reminding him of their excursion to Voldemort’s cave. The wind whistled past him as he strode to the edge of the cliff, looking up and down the edge for any sign of her.

The cliff on which the French-looking house rested must have been thirty feet high and Draco carefully leaned over the edge to look down, seeing nothing but the white foam the waves left on the rocks below. There wasn’t a sign of a body, but Draco couldn’t decide if that was comforting or not. He walked along the edge for a short distance, glancing back towards the house periodically.

He had just decided to go back in and get Potter when as he turned, he spotted what appeared to be rough steps carved out of one of the inlets of the cliffside. Changing direction, he approached them, finding a twisting staircase that traveled down the face of the cliff. Hesitantly, he placed his weight on the top step and, after finding it sturdy, started to descend.

It wasn’t until he was halfway down that the small strip of sand at the bottom came into view. He had assumed that there were only rocks down below, but as his feet left the stairs, they met with soft white sand. The beach grew as he walked away from the stairs, finding an odd footprint here and there where the waves hadn’t washed them away.

As he came around a jutting edge of the cliff, Draco stopped in his tracks. The cliffs moved inland away from the water, leaving behind a stretch of beach that seemed to extend for several miles, nestled between rock and ocean.

Driftwood and boulders littered the beach and several yard away he saw Hermione sitting on the sand, legs crossed as she stared out to the horizon. The relief he felt at finding her was tainted somewhat by the concern her reaction to him had invoked. Handling other’s emotions was not something he had ever had experience in, finding it more convenient to simply ignore them in the past. But he had never cared about anyone this much, so it was truly uncharted territory.

Steeling himself against the typical resistance he usually felt in similar situations, Draco reminded himself that this was his second chance at life. And that for the past eight months, all he had wished for was to talk to Hermione one last time.

She looked up at him as he came up beside her on the chilly beach, watching as he gracefully sat down on the damp sand besides her. He didn’t acknowledge her at first, simply stared out to the sea as she had been doing.

Being at the beach she had discovered a few days after moving in had always had a calming effect on her. Already she was feeling a thousand times better and calmer than she had before, but there was still a residual hum of anxiety that simmered just out of reach.

Hermione turned to look back over the water again, sitting in comfortable silence with Draco as she tried to work up the courage she needed.

After several minutes of easy silence, interrupted only by the whistle of wind and crashing of the waves on sand, Hermione let out a breath and gathered every ounce of trust for him close. Without turning to Draco, she opened her mouth to begin but Draco interrupted her, glancing over as he sensed her shift.

“You don’t have to tell me, you know.” He said calmly, meeting her eyes when she turned her head to look at him. “It’s okay.”

Hermione smiled softly, never once thinking that he would be the one comforting her. After all, he had been the one to spend eight months of isolation in the worst prison in the wizarding world. His expression was more open than she had ever seen in before and she knew how much effort he must be putting in to not wall everything up like he used to.

“I do have to tell you.” She said after another moment. “And not just because apparently it has a greater affect on me than I had originally thought. But because you deserve honesty, because I deserve honesty.” She added the last piece softly. Most of her life had been spent worrying about other people’s feelings and needs, it was time to think of her own.

Draco heard the determination in her voice and nodded. He couldn’t imagine what she was about to tell him but knew that it was bad. That alone was enough to scare him. Whatever it was, he wouldn’t react, would just let her say what she needed to say and be there for her. And if there was another guy in her life, then he would be respectful of whatever she chose to do.

Hermione took a deep breath and turned back to the water, pressing her lips together before she exhaled and began to speak.

“After Voldemort left the Manor the night of the final battle,” she purposefully didn’t mention that Draco had left as well, trying to delay the inevitable guilt he would feel. “When he left--” she paused and took a deep breath, realizing she was going to have to say the name of the man who embodied the worst night of her entire life, “-- when he left Greyback there with me-”

Draco bristled at the name, having spent the last eight months fanaticizing about the many ways he would kill the man if he ever got his hands on him. He was surprised to find that whatever was bothering her involved the night at the Manor, though he was briefly relieved that it didn’t involve another wizard in her life.

Whatever happened had apparently occurred after he and Voldemort had left the manor, leaving her alone with the werewolf. The werewolf that had been obsessed with her since the trio had been at the Manor the first time. The werewolf who on multiple occasions had detailed exactly what he would like to do to Hermione Granger if he ever got his paws on her.

Immediately Draco felt his stomach clench, sudden realization flooding him as he connected the dots; the looks between her and Potter, how protective the black-haired wizard had been, Hermione’s strong reaction when he had touched her earlier.

He let out a hard breath and stared at her. “He raped you.”

He hadn’t meant to say it so bluntly, and if he wasn’t so filled with immediate rage at the confirmation he saw in her eyes, he likely would have felt bad about it. The pained expression on her face made Draco’s blood boil. Clenching his jaw, he turned away back towards the ocean for the briefest second before he got up to his feet, furious anger driving his movements.

Hermione jumped at his quick movement and watched with wide eyes as he stood for a moment in the sand radiating anger, as if he couldn’t figure out what he wanted to do next. This is not how she expected this conversation to go. Or maybe it was exactly what she should have expected.

The first person to know about Greyback’s assault had been Blaise, the diagnostic spells he had used immediately telling him much more beyond her injuries. Harry had been next, and Hermione remembered that he had reacted similarly to Draco. She thought that he would have exploded from anger; he had even thrown a glass vase across his living room before realizing that the werewolf was dead and there was nothing he could do.

But he could be there for Hermione and that is exactly what he had done. When she had first woke up, all of her energy went towards plans for the hospital and freeing Draco. It was that way for months before she had a slight breakdown and Harry finally stepped in. He had tried to convince her to seek some sort of help, either muggle or magical, but she had brushed the suggestion aside, assuring him that she was fine.

Obviously, she had been wrong.

“Where is he?” Draco said suddenly, turning to look down at her, an icy fire burning behind the grey eyes.

Hermione shook her head and came back to the present. Confused momentarily at his question, she stared at him. “Who?”

“The piece of fucking scum werewolf.” He snarled out, hands clenching by his side.

“Why?” She asked hesitantly.

The look he gave her had her hackles rising. It was similar to the goading looks he used to give her at school, one she hadn’t seen from him in a long time. “Why? Because I’m going to fucking kill him.”

Hermione blinked but then remembered that he didn’t know the rest of the story. “You’re a bit late with that.” She said bluntly.

It took a moment for the statement to register through Draco’s anger, and his eyes narrowed slightly when he finally processed it. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Hermione sighed as she pushed up to her feet as well, wiping her sandy palms on the material covering her thighs. Maybe telling him now, like this, hadn’t been the best idea. It was all too much for one day. But she hadn’t exactly planned to have a mental breakdown when they tried to have sex. It’s not like she had had sex since Draco had been imprisoned, how could she have known?

“It means,” she said as she straitened fully and met his eyes, “that he’s dead, and unless you know a way to bring him back to kill him again, you’re too late.”

Draco looked down at her with suspicion, like he didn’t quite believe her. “Dead?” He repeated, and Hermione nodded.

“How? Did Potter kill him?”

Hermione snorted indignantly. Of course he would assume that Harry had killed him, he was boy-wonder after all. Harry would have jumped at the chance to kill the werewolf once he had heard about what he had done, but as with Draco, he was too late.

“No.” The memory of that night replaying freely in her mind. “Kildy killed him when he was—” She made a face as the image of Greyback hovering over her as the elf thrust the knife into his throat flashed across her mind. “She killed him.” She finished with finality, pushing away the memories of his dead body sliding from hers.

This was all obviously a lot for Draco to process. Hermione could almost see the wheels whirling in his mind as he tried to piece together her story, and how his house elf fit into it. After a few minutes of processing, Draco ran a hand through his hair again and looked down at her, remembering the reason they were having this conversation in the first place.

“Are you alright?” He asked, concern for her outweighing the anger that had still raged.

It was a question she had been asked so many times, though it felt different coming from Draco. It felt like she had just laid a piece of her soul bare in front of him. Other than Blaise and Harry, he was the only other person that knew what Greyback had done to her, and she would never get used to having to relive the memory in telling.

Her brows raised slightly as she looked down at the beach between them. The easy lie of ‘I’m fine’ didn’t come to her lips like it usually did. This was Draco, the man whose freedom she had been fighting for, the man who had broken through every defense she had, the man she loved. She didn’t want to lie to him.

With a sigh of surrender, she met his eyes again, startled by the intensity with which he watched her.

“No.” It was almost a question, having never admitted it out loud before. It was as if saying it out loud made it suddenly real and Hermione blinked at the tears that began to prick at her eyes. Dashing them away angrily, her words fell more harshly. “I mean physically, yes I’m fine. Blaise really did a great job and I don’t have any lasting effects or anything. But,” she paused and furrowed her brows, “no, I don’t think I’m alright. I think what happened earlier all but proves that.” She scoffed.

Feeling angry was new. With how much she had been pushing down feelings that she should have dealt with, there hadn’t been any emotion other than some fear and sadness associated with the horrors that had happened to her. So when angry tears slipped over her cheeks, she wiped at them furiously. She was angry at what had happened, angry that it still seemed to have some sort of hold over her, angry that she could no longer ignore it.

At her tears Draco’s concern grew and he instinctively reached for her, wrapping her protectively in his arms.

He felt angry too. Angry that he had left her with the monster who had assaulted her, angry that the fucking bastard wasn’t still alive so that Draco could gut him, and angry that she had been forced to deal with this all on her own.

Hermione blew out a breath against his shirt, annoyed that the tears wouldn’t stop. It seemed that once the dam broke and she laid everything bare, it just kept going.

“I’m sorry.” Draco spoke softly into her hair, his arms tightening around her shoulders.

Hermione stiffened and after a moment she pulled away to look up at him. “You’re sorry? For what?”

Draco’s brows drew together, and he shook his head slightly. “For what happened to you. If I hadn’t agreed to leave you behind—”

Hermione pushed sharply away from his chest and held up a hand to cut him off. Anger flared once again, but this time for a different reason. She was not about to let him feel guilty for what happened to her.

“If you hadn’t done what you did, I’d be dead. You saved my life when you made that deal.”

“But I should have insisted you come with us to the castle.”

“There was no way Voldemort ever would have allowed that.” She argued. “You had about as much control in that situation as I did, Draco. You did what you could to help me. You saved my life.”

“And you were raped because of it. And I spent eight months in prison.” Draco interjected, his own temper rising. For the life of him he couldn’t understand why the were arguing about this.

“Would you rather I had just died? At least then you could have fought for the Order as planned and would have been free-“

“No.” Draco said sharply, only too familiar with how it felt to lose her, to mourn her. He knew now just as he had known the moment he agreed to Voldemort’s terms that he would have done anything to keep her alive.

The tears had ceased and now her eyes were blazing with temper. “Then don’t regret what you did. Don’t apologize for saving my life. No one is to blame for what happened other than the animal that hurt me.”

The strength in her words meant more to Draco than he could have ever expected. She wasn’t broken, hadn’t allowed what had happened to take over her life. Greyback had hurt her, assaulted her, almost killed her; but he hadn’t broken her.

With a deep exhale, Draco finally nodded, feeling both protective and proud of the deceptively small witch in front of him. Once again, he stepped towards her, seeing her eyes narrow in the remaining bits of her anger. Ignoring the sharp look, Draco held her eyes as he reached up and tucked a curl that blew across her face with the wind.

Hermione’s expression softened at the touch and she briefly closed her eyes before stepping forward and wrapping her arms about his waist. Immediately he enveloped her, dropping his nose to her hair as he breathed in her familiar scent that mingled with the salty air. Both realizing that they had come away from the war with scars, permanent reminders of the hell they had lived through. But with scars came strength.

Aesthetic of Hermione's sea side house (I am fully aware that nothing really goes together but I love it all): 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No surprise baby for those that were worried! I couldn't do that to Hermione after all I've put her through. 
> 
> So my plan is to keep writing until I feel satisfied with an ending, which hasn't happened yet. I love this story and don't want it to end yet, but I also think there is more to discover with how the two evolve post-war. There is still some plot left to run through so hopefully these next chapters will be interesting to read :)


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